


Pandemonium

by Inshadowsidream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural, crossover - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dean has gone missing, Demons are Tricky, Harry likes to tease, It wasn't our fault, M/M, Sam likes to cuddle, Slash, Supernatural Elements, Violence, paranormal elements, you are in for a wild ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-09-18 12:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inshadowsidream/pseuds/Inshadowsidream
Summary: After defeating the archdemon Voldemort, Harry becomes fed up with how so many people that could protect themselves, won't because they expect him to take all the risks. He wants to help people that truly needed it, not those who refused to help themselves. He makes plans to leave, but Dumbledore learns of his plans and takes measures to stop him, forcing Harry to leave before he was ready.Once in America, a spell gone wrong, dumps him in the path of Sam. Learning that Sam is searching for his missing brother, Harry offers his aid, and pandemonium follows.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe some day this will be continued.

"It is not supposed to be like this, Hermione!" Harry stated, pausing in his pacing to look at his friend. "I managed to destroy the archdemon, Voldemort, but nothing has changed, not really. People are still demanding that I save them!" he declared with a scowl.

"The problem is that they know you will," Hermione said, clearly of the opinion that he should be aware of the fact. "All they have to do is sit back, let the killings start, and you will rush in to stop it, you have done so repeatedly."

"She is right, mate," Ron joined in, supporting his soon to be wife. "Other than the lot of us, no one is going to lift a finger, possibly risk their lives when you are willing to risk yours."

"What am I supposed to do, leave Britian?" Harry asked, throwing his hands in the air. He was half joking, but mainly at a loss over what he should do to change things. Letting people die wasn't something he could do.

"Harry, you want to help those that can't help themselves, but you can't do that if you are too busy saving those that could help themselves, but won't. So yes, if you want things to change, you are going to have to leave," Hermione stated, surprising both Harry and Ron. She normally didn't accept an unwanted outcome until all other solutions had been eliminated. They were unaware that she had already looked for other options, and leaving was the only one that had a chance of working.

Ignoring the astonishment on their faces, Hermione continued. "I realized ages ago that it would come to this. Demons go after the strongest first, which are wizards and witches. As long as you are doing the work for them, most are going to let you do it. They aren't going to fight for themselves as long as you are here. They know as well as I do that you can't resist saving lives.

"Knowing you as I do, I looked into it, and it's clear that in order to force them to take care of the remaining demons themselves, you are going to have to leave.

"The magical community in America is under seige. They have too many demons and not enough hunters. Their plight is not helped by the fact that they are solely responsible for such an immense amount of territory," Hermione said, waving a wand to bring up a map.

"We have hunters all over the United Kingdom, we have allied with the French and Romanian communities," she said, swishing her wand so a key appeared the same times dots of red, blue and green, appeared to cover England, Scotland, Ireland, France, and a few other countries allied with either France or Romania.

"Why are the red dots so few compared to the others?" Ron asked, frowning. Surely the U.K had more hunters than that.

"One out of ten Romanian magic users hunt, one out of four Romanian squibs hunt. One out of fifteen French magic users hunt, half their squibs do. One out of fifty magic users from the U.K hunt, only a small handful of our squibs do. We have the largest community, but less than half the number of hunters," Hermione sniffed, swishing her wand again. "These are muggle hunters," she said as white dots appeared. There were only a few dozen of them scattered across the map.

"Muggles hunt?"

"I don't know why you are so surprised, Ron," Hermion said in a tone that that was a verbal rolling of her eyes. "Did you think they never encounter demons or their spawn? Honestly, it only makes sense that at least a few hunt. They are quite capable of doing so, though all they can do is banish the demons."

"Oh, right, they have gums and other weapons..." Ron said knowingly.

"Guns, not gums. They have teeth, you know?" Hermione said in clear amusement "They don't go around gnawing on things like a baby."

"Could have done without that image," Ron grumbled, not happy with the thought of people with no teeth chomping on things.

  
"Anyway, this is North America, along with the other countries under its protection. Mexico and South America have tiny magical communities. Between them they have roughly fifteen hundred wizards and witches. North America has roughly three thousand, but as you can see, the combined area of land mass..."

"Is enormous!" Ron blurted, earning himself a disaproving sniff from Hermione who did not like being interupted so rudely.

Ignoring her, he continued. "Even with Muggles...why are there so many white dots?"

"Because they have more Muggles hunting. Not everyone can hunt Ron, at least not actively. It requires a mind frame that quite a few people don't have. Look at Your family for an example. Can you imagine your mum or dad hunting? The twins? You only became a hunter because of Harry, so did I. Neither of us could hunt on our own long term.

"As much as we hate demons, as much as we desire to keep those we care about safe, who we are inside would cause us to fail. Think of how you felt when we were searching for the artifacts that protected Voldemort. It went against your nature to be away so long. I managed only marginally better because I had access to books that helped me retain my resolve.

"By the time the last artifact was destroyed, I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, so were you. Harry, on the other hand, was in his element."

"He didn't seem nearly as tired. It took me weeks before I stopped feeling as if I needed more sleep," Ron said, looking at Harry thoughtfully.

"I have never been still as you two have. I have always had to be alert, be prepared to fight. At the Dursleys, I never knew when my uncle or Dudley would come barging into my room. I never knew when my aunt would start shrieking about some chore or another she wanted me to do. It wasn't really that different at Hogwarts. I have had to learn how to relax while remaining alert, to quickly adjust to situations that changed in the blink of an eye."

"Exactly!" Hermione nodded, smiling at Harry, and then turned back to Ron. "Everyone is able to hunt for short periods, it takes someone like Harry to do it long term. He has been placed in situations all his life that resulted in his mind set developing differently than ours has. He was made into a hunter over a matter of years.

"Most people aren't like that. We have never needed to be. By the time someone reaches an age to hunt, it takes rigid training to place them in the right mind frame, and even then, they still aren't able to endure the constant travelling. There are those just not meant to be hunters. Can you imagine Lavender hunting? What about Luna or Neville?" she asked Ron, and then looked the map again.

There were well over a thousand dots on the map, but they seemed far, far fewer in number because of how widely scattered they were.

"Because there aren't enough magical hunters to cover all that area, more Muggles encounter demons and their spawn. The result is an increase in the number of muggle hunters," Hermione said, turning her gaze to Harry.

"People are dying because there simply aren't enough hunters. The muggle hunters only ease the problem, and only a handful survive long enough to do any real good.

"Things are different there. Our werewolves and vampires work to exterminate those of their races that prey on the Muggles. In America, they are part of the problem.

"What magical hunters they have are often killed by the muggle hunters, because they are confused with people who get their magic from demons. The person I talked too, said that for every three new hunters, two die because they encountered a muggle hunter.

"They have demons that possess people, using them as disguises. They have spawn that Muggles have to band together to hunt. Madam Williams, who is the liaison officer between our communities, said that on hunts requiring a group of people, It is often the case that most are killed. Twelve go in, maybe five live to walk away.

"She said that they have requested help from other countries, but when aid is sent, it is not nearly enough, and the hunters never stay longer than a few weeks.

"I gathered from what was said, that none of those sent to help are well trained, or very powerful. I understand the need to protect your own country, but sending hunters fresh out of training isn't going to work in a situation like this. They don't have the experience needed to hunt something unknown to them.

"This forces the American to send them after hunts the Muggles could handle, which results in the Muggles going after things they have no chance against, and it risks exposing us all when our hunters use magic to kill something that can't be killed any other way."

Harry had remained silent until then, just listening. Three things became clear to him. One was that he was being handed the opportunity to help someone trying to help themselves, and another was that he was being given a chance to help those in need without his fame hindering him. The last was that in leaving, he was very possibly starting a life in which he could be just another hunter. He was good at it, and if he became well known, it would be fame that he hsd earned, not for something that took place when he was too young to understand, and should have been credited to someone else.

Being famous for an event in which he had been a by-stander at best, had never seemed right. Honestly, he had never liked much about being famous, and he now had a chance to leave it all behind.

"What do I need to do?" he inquired, deciding to seize the bull by the horns.

Hermione beamed at him, and started rattling off a list of what he needed to do.

"You realize that if word of this gets out, that lot," Ron waved his hand at the window and the world beyond, "is going to do everything in their power to stop you."

"That is why I am going to handle most of the details," Hermione said smugly. "I travel quite a bit, no one is likely to suspect it is Harry that I am making arrangements for."

Hermione greatly underestimated the intelligence of the press, and how closely she was being watched. It took only four days before articles about his leaving began appearing. Harry managed to halt the influx of howlers by sending owls stating that he was simply taking a short holiday. His reprive only lasted two days because someone on the American side of the endeavor, leaked the fact that he had been corresponding with the Hunters Association to the American Press. It was instant pandemonium.

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"I am so sorry, Harry," a distraught Hermione exclaimed, vanishing several smoking howlers. Beside her, Ron wasn't being so kind, he was sending them back to the sender.

"Not your fault, Hermione," Harry said, flashing her a smile over his shoulder as he quickly untied howlers from the legs of frantic owls. "You can't control everything, though you give it a good try. I don't really mind this time. Because of it, I am being given a house, and a car. It saves me time, a lot of it, as both are coming to me fully stocked, warded and charmed."

Truthfully, Harry had been delighted. Leaving meant he had to start from scratch, and he hadn't a clue how to go about it.

"But by whom?" Hermione asked, vanishing an envelope with a curse on it. "After this, I am not so certain..."

"Blimey Harry, I think you managed to anger nearly everyone. I have already sent back at least a hundred howlers, and I have only been here twenty minutes!"

"What do you mean you are returning them?" a shocked Hermione gasped, scandlized by Ron's lack of concern for the wellfare of others. "Don't you realize someone could get seriously hurt?"

"So it's okay that Harry might be? If for some reason we couldn't be here, Harry could be killed, you think of that?" Ron inquired, glaring at his girlfriend. "I have found several rather nasty curses, and at least three envelopes that were boobytrapped. Serves the wankers right if you ask me. Maybe getting hit with what they intended for Harry, will teach them manners. At the least, they will think twice before attempting to harm someone again."

Hermione blinked and then frowned at the envelope in her hands. She had only been thinking of getting rid of the howlers, and apologizing for sending back unopened letters and packages. Now in retrospect, she wasn't sure why she was apologizing. They had all contained something harmful meant to injure someone she cared deeply about, and who had not harmed the sender.

The sheer number of cursed howlers alone would have sent Harry to St. Mungos if the two of them hadn't been free to help him to get rid of them. Add in the envelopes and packages containing booby traps and Harry would have died!

Kreacher eyed her when with a growl of anger, Hermione began everything encased in a howler of her making. He didn't quite know what to make of it all, so went back to freeing the owls from their burdens.

Harry watched her for a brief moment. She sometimes surprised him how quickly she could go from polite and helpful, to "I'll rip your face off!" when the situation was right. It was a bit scary.

Ron watched her smugly. He was proud that he had such a versatile, and clever, girlfriend. She could be exactly what was needed in any situation, just like his mother-only younger, much prettier, and without all the screeching.

It was another twenty minutes before the owls stopped coming. All three teens let out a startled shout when Bill stepped into the kitchen, catching them off guard as they had not heard him come in.

"I did call out," Bill laughed, amused by Ron's bugged eyes and dropped jaw, although having Hermione's and Harry's wands aimed at him wasn't amusing in the least.

"Mum told me what is going on, so I came by to ward against howlers," he said, explaining his presence. "After checking the wards, I decided to ward against potions and harmful ingredients as well. Actually, the wards were already in place, just weak and in need of strenthening."

"Thanks, Bill," Harry said, stepping forward to hug the older wizard. He wasn't as close to Bill as he was Ron or the twins, but he still felt like family. Something crunched in Bill's pocket, and Harry quickly released him, fearing he might have just damaged something.

Bill pulled a crumpled and rather thick envelope from his robes, and handed it to Harry. "Ragnar asked that I drop that off. He doesn't like to use owls if he can avoid doing so. He is a bit paranoid about their being intercepted," he said with a shrug. "Sorry about the state it is in, mum and Gin about hugged the life from me the moment I stepped into the Burrow."

"How long are you staying?" Ron asked, getting up to greet his brother with a hug.

"I don't know. Honestly, I don't know why me and my team were called back here. All we have been told is to be prepared to leave at a moment's notice. So I will tell you good-bye now, in case I can't later," Bill said with a chuckle.

After a few minutes of catching up, Ron and Hermione had to leave for a lunch date with her parents. Bill race used himself to get started on the wards, so Harry opened the envelope he had been given. He barely had time to read that it was a portkey, before it activated, and he found himself on his knees, in a nicely decorated office, with a man and a woman blinking at him in surprise.

"Easy there, Mr. Potter. We mean you no harm," an female voice said from behind him. Harry was on his feet with his wand drawn a second later."

"Who are you, where am I, and why am I here?" Harry demanded to know, moving quickly into a position to where his back was covered by walls, and he had the three strangers in his sight.

"I am Arina Havershaw, the solictor assigned to you by Minister Pencepenny. This is Harlem Jones, a solicitor assigned to you by the American Ministry, and this is Miranda Baxley, she is something the Americans call a watcher, and you have my apologies, Mr. Potter. When I requested a meeting to be arranged, I didn't expect you to be deposited on my floor like a lump, and clueless as to the purpose in being brought here."

Harry said nothing as he studied them. Havershaw was a neatly dressed, middle-aged female with red hair just beginning to grey. She watched him calmly, her grey eyes shining with intelligence.

Jones was tall and thin. He looked out at the world through a pair of glasses with square lens. He was clearly nervous as he fidgeted, his long, bony fingers shifted over the briefcase clutched to his chest. Idly, Harry wondered if he had slept in his clothing as he had a rather rumpled look about him.

Baxley was the youngest of the three, appearing not too much older than Harry's eighteen. She seemed as bewildered as he felt. They seemed to be human, but he wasn't trusting that...or rather he didn't until a goblin came in, shutting the door behind him.

"Mr. Potter, I am surprised to see you here. No one alerted me to your arrival," the goblin said, turning to look at Haversaw, when she let out a snort of laughter.

"That would be because a portkey dumped him here. He arrived uninformed of why he was being brought here."

"I am afraid I don't understand. I wrote the request...of course, Ragnar. We had quite a few owls fall into enemy hands during the war. It has left quite a few of us less than trusting of owl correspondence."

"Everything has been answered but the question of why I am here?" Harry said, still disgruntled over his "kidnapping".

"I can answer that, Mr. Potter" Baxley said, a warm smile lighting her otherwise plain face.

"You see, the deal struck with your Miss Granger, is invalid, and very unsatisfactory. The reason it is not valid, is because it was not made with you directly. The reason it is unsatisfactory, is that it does not fit the standards that is policy for hunters. It was a mistake made because the person who spoke with your Miss Granger, misunderstood who she was making arrangements for. It had been believed that she was speaking for herself, so it was the package reserved for V.I.P visitors, she was told about.

"Our visting hunters are assigned much more than a house in the village, and a car placed at their disposal. As a hunter, you have requirements that go beyond what your friend would need. As a long term hunter, your needs are more extensive still. Mrs. Havershaw and Mr. Jones are here to oversee the legalities, Rankfoot and I will ensure that you have everything you need to hunt efficiently, and are comfortable as a wizard."

When Harry finally made it back home hours later, he was physically and mentally exhausted. Bill, who had been concerned when Harry had just seemed to vanish, took one look at him, and ushered him off to bed, ignoring his family's, and Hermione's, demands to be told where Harry had been.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

Sam paced, it had been a long day, he was tired, but his worry over his brother kept him awake and made him restless. They had been investigating several disappearances believed to be the work of a wendingo. Dean had decided to cover ground more quickly by going to question a smaller village further up the mountain, leaving Sam to guestion the villagers living at the base.

At some point after leaving the village, Dean had disappeared. Sam hadn't thought much on it when he failed to return that night. Phone reception wasn't great, and Dean had mentioned the possibility of checking out a village to the east. That had been two days before, and Sam had no doubts something was wrong. There wasn't a chance in hell that Dean would fail to call, even if he had to use a landline. Sam's failure to reach his brother's phone was only proof that something was up, he had been the one to renew Dean's service, so there was no reason for his phone to be out of service.

After a few more minutes of pacing, he broke down and called Bobby. He needed advice, and a vehicle. Talking to the older man calmed him a little. It really helped to have someone else help shoulder the problem.

Deciding a hot shower might relax him enough to get some needed rest, Sam was soon under the hot spray of water, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders fade away. He hadn't realized just how tired he was, until he crawled into bed fifteen minutes later. It felt so good to lay down and close his eyes.

_It was foggy, Sam could barely make out the trees around him. He had no idea where he was at, or how he had got there. All he could hear was the drip of water, which in a way, was more eerie than complete silence would have been. A twig snapped, sounding as loud as a gunshot, and Sam whirled in the direction the sound came from, but the fog was even thicker behind him, he couldn't even make out the trees he somehow knew was there. Another twig snapped, and he whirled to face it, though this time he saw something moving._

_Dropping to his knees, Sam felt the ground frantically, searching for a branch, a rock, anything that could be used to provide some protection._

_"It's me, Sammy."_

_The sound of his brother's voice froze Sam into place. He stayed where he was, dampness from the wet leaves and underlying mud seeped through his jeans to chill his knees. He squinted, liking hard through the swiriling mist, but could see nothing other than a vague, genderless shadow._

_"I am lost, Sammy. I can't find my way out, hell, I don't know how I got in. There is a fork in the road, I took the one on the left. I got out at a large oak tree, I dropped something important there. There was a devil dog, or maybe it was just a dog, big and black. It took what I dropped. You need to find it, it's the only way to find me."_

_Sam got to his feet, heading towards his brother, but something came out of the shadows to his left, something with sharp teeth that sank into his throat._

  
Sam came awake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in the bed. He had fallen asleep with the bedside lamp on, so it was clear that he was alone and in a run down motel room with an outdated color scheme, not in a fog smothered area, with what may or may not be his brother. Taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart, it wasn't long before the sweat covering him began to dry, becoming unpleasantly cool and itchy.

"Just a dream," he told himself, throwing back the thin bedspread and sheet, intent on washing away the sweat. He let out a shocked gasp, and froze, staring at his knees. They were covered in still damp mud, bits of grass clinging to them, it was smeared on the sheets.

He was under a lot of stress, deeply worried about his brother, so was it possible that he had walked in his sleep? It was the only explaination that explained it...if he had, why wasn't his feet muddy as well?

Sam stared at his feet, and after a moment, pulled them up to examine the soles-they were dry and completely clean. If he had walked in his sleep, and had gone outside, it just didn't seem logical that his feet would be clean, but his knees.   to be covered in mud. Deciding to check outside, Sam wiped his knees free of the dried mud, and then pulled on the jeans he had dropped on his bags after showering.

When he reached for his boots, he stopped to stare at them. They had muddy soles, and were not where he had taken them off. They were beside the door, placed on a paper bag.

"What the hell?" he muttered, picking them up and carrying them outside to clean off the mud. His confusion only grew once he was outside. There was no mud in sight, only the broken pavement that served as a parking lot.

"Where you been to get yer boots muddy?" a voice asked. Startled, Sam whirled to see the old man running the motel. He was sitting on the broad windowsill, smoking a ciggarette. "Ain't rained around here in weeks," he added, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

Giving a vague answer, Sam quickly wiped his boots on a patch of dead grass, and then went back inside. Closing the door, he leaned against it, letting the boot hit the floor.

How he had got mud anywhere, when there was no mud to get muddy with? It was like being part of a bizarre brain teaser?

As Alice in Wonderland would say, things were getting curiouser and curiouser; Bobby couldn't get there fast enough to suit Sam.

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Bobby lifted his cap, ran a hand over his greying red hair, and then settled his cap back into place. There was a disgruntled expression on his face as he lifted the steaming mug of diner coffee to his lips and sipped.

Setting the mug back down on the worn booth table top, he frowned at Sam.

"If it were Dean telling me this, I would have plenty to say, now? I can't make head or tails of it."

An annoyed frown furrowed Sam's brow, though when he spoke, his voice was calm.

"You don't give Dean enough credit..." he said, meaning to stick up for his brother, but Bobby stalled his tirade with a lifted hand.

"Dean is one of the best hunters I know, Sam. However, he doesn't think things through, and he is impulsive. The fact that he is alive despite how often he runs off half cocked is testimony to his skill as a hunter.

"He also likes his beer, and his girls, a story like you just told me, is something he would come up with to..."

"Bobby, you don't know Dean as well as you think you do. When you look at him, you see the teen he once was, not the man he is now. Before he turned eighteen, he lied to you and dad because dad especially ride him hard over the smallest mistake. Lying was the only chance he had of avoiding dad, then you, tearing him apart. Once he was old enough to stand up to you both, he has not told either of you a lie," Sam pointed out, hands fiddling with the glass of water before him in agitation.

"Yes, he gets strange notions at times, but that doesn't mean he is stupid or that he is lying. When was the last time he went off half cocked? Over two years ago, not since I started hunting with him. You know why? It is because he does listen when I advise him. I don't call him names, I don't make him feel stupid. I treat him as the adult he is. Dad sees that he is, why can't you?"

"Your dad has changed, but you feel the same about him as you did at eighteen. You love him, but you can't forget how he was. Dean is to me, the way your dad is to you. I care about him, I worry about him, but I can't forget how often he got himself into trouble because he is too much like John.

"It hasn't got anything to do with how old he is, Sam. You don't trust your dad not to revert to the person he was, I don't trust Dean in the same way."

Sam scrubbed at his face in irritation. Bobby talked about stubborn his dad and brother could be, and he could be just as stubborn. There was a difference between attempting to force someone to do what you wanted them to do, and holding against someone, something they did as a teen.

"I am not doing this again, Bobby. I didn't ask you to come here to argue with you about Dean. He is missing, something extremely weird is going on, and I need help figuring it all out. At the least, I need a set of wheels, and some weapons. Wherever Dean is, so is the Impala and our gear. All I have is my gun, one clip of ammo, and a bag of clothing, most of which is dirty."

"I can get you geared up, get you a ride, but beyond that, all I can do is ask around and see if anyone has heard of something like this happening," Bobby said gruffly, sipping his coffee again, and at finding it was no longer scalding hot, drank deeper. He hated not having answers, and knew the lack of them was bothering Sam even more.

"It is better than nothing, and gives me a way to see if what I dreamed was real, or if someone is messing around with me."

"I will clue Ellen in, she can get the word spread that Dean is missing faster than I can, the more eyes looking for him the faster he will be found, and he will be found, Sam. Dean is wily, and resourceful. Whatever is going on with him, you can bet he is going to walk away from it. He always does."

"You are right," Sam said, thinking of all the times his brother had walked away from what had seemed impossible. He hadn't always been in the best shape afterwards, but he had survived.

"You're driving while I make a few arrangements," Bobby said, sliding the keys to his truck across the table to Sam. "Ain't going to become a hypercritic by talking on the phone while driving." He drained his coffee, and stood up, tossing a five dollar tip on the table.

Three hours later, Sam had enough in the way of weapons to huntbalmost anything. He had enough ammo to last for at least two weeks of hard hunting. Now, he and Bobby were talking to an old hunter, who was willing to donate a beat up truck to Sam.

"Ain't much to look at," the man said, patting the hood with a gnarled hand. "She belonged to my son, he kept her running smooth. He hung up his guns last month when his wife gave birth to twins. He knows I still muck around with hunters, even if I cain't hunt myself. He told me to give it all to some lucky hunter, and that looks like you son," he said, giving Sam a smile that showed one pearly white tooth.

"Bobby, I know you ain't agonna take my word for it, so you take her out for a look-see, and legs here can take a gander at the rest, see if he can use anything.

The "look-see" didn't take place right away, the key had to be found first. Sam was left to wonder around, while Bobby helped the old hunter search his pint sized house for the misplaced key.

There wasn't much to look at, just a small yard gone to weed, so he decided to check the truck out. The exterior was a patch work of faded red paint and primer, the interior wasn't much better.

The dashboard was cracked and had been bleached by the sun until it was a mottled mess of slate blue and white. Bits of the plastic covering the steering wheel had been chiped away, and the sharp edges had covered with duct tape. The door to the glove box was missing, and a makeshift one had been created out of mesh and screws.

The seat, he was glad to see, were much newer. They had yet to begin to fade nor were the springs shot. He closed the door, and was in the process of turning to check out the bed, when everything went black.

_Sam looked around in confusion. He was again in a foggy area, though he wasn't positive it was the same place as in his dream. There seemed to be fewer trees, and he could hear what sounded like running water._

_The scent of honeysuckle hit his nose a few seconds before something moved in the mist. The shadowy figure that slowly came into sight, was much smaller than before, and seemed genderless._

_"I mean you no harm, Sam Winchester. I can't tell you what is going on, or who I am. I can't show myself to you, and I can't tell you why," a child like voice said, startling Sam as it seemed to come from all around him._

_"What I can tell you is that you will be shown a sword with a hilt bound in green. You must take it, and when you find a hunter with eyes the exact green, you need to trust that person. They are different from you, but just as worthy of trust._

_"Trust yourself, Sam Winchester, trust eyes of killing green, remember my words, and all will be well."_

Blinking against the sun, Sam sat up, surprised to find himself on the ground. Getting to his feet, he dusted himself off, and then glanced at his watch. It was a quarter after three, which meant he had been asleep or unconscious a few minutes at the most.

When Bobby came out with the keys a moment later, Sam said nothing of his experience. Bobby roared off in the truck, and Sam reluctantly followed the old man around back to the shed where his son's gear was stored. He dreaded looking through it. Either he would find the sword, which would be proof he was having visions, or he wouldn't find it, which might mean he was loosing his mind. He honestly couldn't say which he considered to be the worst scenario.

There wasn't much in the bag, making Sam wonder about the son. What kind of hunter carried only a handgun, a small bag of salt, and two boxes of ammo?

"Slap me and call me senile," the old hunter exclaimed with a grimace. "I am sorry, Legs, I done gave you my old kit, or what is left of it. Sold off most of it years ago, you will haveta lug my son's kit off that shelf there," he said, pointing at a large bag sitting on a high shelf.

Sam lifted the bag down, sending up a cloud of dust. The bag was heavy, which explained why the old man had him get it down.

"Recogin, its all still in good condition. My son put it up there so my daughter's youngins couldn't get in it, I ain't the man I used to be, so its been up there since he quit going out."

"To be honest," Sam said after emptying half the bag. "I already have most of this, with spares."

"That's fine, you just look through it, take what you don't have, and I will hold on to the rest for the next hunter that passes through."

The man seemed intent on Sam looking at everything in the bag, and he couldn't think of a reason to say no. It seemed as if he wouldn't find a sword, but then he reached the bottom and found a long, oil cloth wrapped object.

"I clean forgot he had that," the old man beamed as Sam unwrapped the item. "If the feller my son won it from was truthful, it is a genuine Samurai sword, three hundred years old," he said, pronouncing it as ginuwine samyoueye sward.

"Feller said that they don't makem like this one any more. Something about the metal being folded a hundred times or something."

Sam didn't know anything about samurai other than they were hunters of Japanese origins from hundreds of years ago, all he knew about swords was that they could be used to decapitate werewolves and vampires.

What he did know was that he was having visions. He had found a sword with a green hilt, just as he had been told he would.

  
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_Meanwhile..._

Dean paced, hands thrust into his short blond hair, murmering to himself. After a few more passes, he stopped to shout in frustration. He didn't know what in the he'll was happening. Each morning, he got into the Impala, in a city whose name he could not remember. He would stop some place different for breakfast, and no matter what he ordered, he ended up with whole grain pancakes, slathered in peanut butter, and topped with something that looked like syrup, but was barely sweet, and very runny. Instead of coffee, he got apple juice. When he would go to complain, there would be no one to complain too. He was stuck eating the damned things, and slurping on the juice.

Filled with the nauseatingly healthy food, he would get back into his baby, and drive to the next town, whose name he could not remember. He would decide to grab a bite, a burger, meat loaf, something he could define as real food, and what would he get? A huge bowl of rabbit food and a glass of milk! If he dared complain or tried to avoid eating it, a shriveled old geezer came running out to beat him with a ladle. It was like trying to fight off a swarm of bees aimed at his crotch!

After eating the disgusting salad -his boys didn't deal well with coming in contact with ladles- it was back in the car, off to the next town where a sweet and curvy redhead of nineteen would serve him poached fish with asparagus and Brussels sprouts. If he complained, she would tell him old men had to worry about clogged arteries. Talk about a blow to his ego! He was twenty-four, in his prime, not some stooped old fart with a walker! Then it was time to check into a motel where all the porn stations showed nothing, but animals going at it. What the fuck? He would try calling Sam, but would get some old woman who cackled at him, asking if his pipes were clean.

Suddenly the answer hit him, and Dean stopped in mid-pace, an expression of horror spreading over his face. He was in hell and this was how it would be from now on!  
  
Sitting down hastily, Dean let out a string of swear words, and then surged to his feet again. Oh hell no! He wasn't letting some sadistic bastard of a demon get away with forcing him to eat rabbit food and endangering his boys. He didn't know why such a sick game was being played with him or why, but he wasn't going to play along.

Ten minutes later, he was packed, in his baby and headed for the nearest church, where he planned to spend the night. From now on, he wasn't going to be predictable. Maybe he could break something by being unpredictable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

 

_At first, this didn't want to be written, I lost track of how many times I started over because it headed off in a direction I didn't want to go, and then, it didn't want to end. It's the longest chapter I have ever written. Please keep in mind that I am writing on a phone. It has a sucky spellchecker that likes to change words on me, as well as confusing me by telling me words that I am spelling correctly, are wrong. One example is telling me that siege, is spelled seize. I went and fixed that in the first chapter by the way. So please, if you find something that makes no sense, point it out to me. Even with two people proofreading, it is possible to miss errors._

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Three days after his accidental 'kidnapping', it happened again, but this time all he did was get up off Haversaw's floor, with a grumbled "Can you sue goblins?"

Realizing that he wasn't serious, the solicitor gave him an apologetic smile. "You could, but it wouldn't be worth the hassle. You would do better to send a letter of protest to the goblin council, threatening to move your money to a muggle bank." she said, waving a hand towards a chair.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Potter. We have several things to discuss, and I have only a hour to do so," Haversaw said, taking a large from a drawer, and spreading it on her desk. She then handed him an envelope.

"Miss Baxley had to return home on some some matter of importance, so it falls to me to go over details for her. First, look at the photos in the envelope. There are three sets of aerial shots of property matching the description you gave of what you desired. Anything tinted red is not included, anything tinted yellow could be included. The numbers are the prices.

Harry did as instructed, one set of pictures caught his eye right away. They were of a clearing surrounded by trees on two sides, a range of hills on a third, and a lake on the last. The yellow tint showed that he could extend the borders to include a good portion of the lake, some distance up the hills, as well as extending it out into the trees.

"Do you have the exact measurements? I can't tell how large a plot I am looking at," he said, glancing up at the solicitor.

"Check the back, there is something written there," Haversaw said, motioning with a hand. "I am afraid I didn't have a chance to look everything over in detail. I was informed of Miss Baxley's departure only moments before my first appointment. I had time to familiarize myself, and that was it."

Harry flipped the photo over and chuckled at seeing what was written there.

"Not good at the metric system, so think of the clearing as being roughly the size of Hogsmeade. All of it, meaning the yellow too, is the size of Hogwarts' grounds. Probably accurate but it will be close enough you an idea. I like this one, buy it all and you got a privacy buffer if the off market land gets sold later. Lots of potions ingredients to be found. Room to expand which is always good."

"I want this one, include the yellow," Harry said, smiling as he handed the photos to Haversaw.

"That," a red tipped finger tapped the blueprints, "is a basic hunter abode. You can customize it to suit your needs and tastes. Keep in mind that while you can rearrange and add to it, you can't take anything away. I wasn't told why, but its mandatory. Just tap once with your wand to change a rooms position, a clockwise circle will increase its dimensions by one square on the grid," Haversaw looked at Harry and grinned "Sorry, but American measurements confuse me.

"Reverse the movement to decrease the size. Add a room by double tapping The type of room listed to one side and then once where you want to place it. Its the same for [outbuildings.The](http://outbuildings.The) shape of the room can be altered once building starts.

"This," Haversaw shuffled through the blueprints until she found the one matching the property Harry had picked.

"Once the house is to your liking, swipe your wand across it, and then tap this one. The outline of the house will appear, it can't be enlarged at this stage, but the process is the same. A list of outbuildings can be found to one side. While you do that, I will be giving myself a little breathing room by going over my next case."

Grinning, Harry nodded, excited by the thought that he was getting to, more or less, design his home. No more small spaces or sharing bedrooms. He just hoped he would get to have further say; he wanted something light, airy, and open.

"Am I allowed to state other preferences?"

Haversaw answered by handing him a piece of parchment, and then pointing at her very muggle biro. He scribbled out a short list of details, and then went to work.

Thoughts of a meeting with Fred and George entered his mind. They were having trouble with Scrunion, the new head of Aurors. He was demanding that they stop wasting time inventing new items, and start focusing on making things powerful enough to kill demons.

It was just a matter of time before Scrunion found a way to force them to comply...something neither twin would do. They would end up in separate cells, and that would break them. Harry hadn't been able to help them before, but he could now, and help himself in the process. They had saved his life a few times with their inventions, and no-one could say their distractions didn't work.

It was their gadgets he found most useful, his favorite had been a set of charms that you placed on your shoes. They made it you could move silently, and leave no tracks even in the muddiest of areas. Unlike cushioning charm, they didn't interfer with traction. They only lasted an hour, though, and the sticking charm sometimes failed. If the twins had what they needed, and didn't have people distracting them with demands, Harry had no doubts they could find a solution.

His mind wandered to Neville next. He had come so far since they had met in first year. It annoyed Harry endlessly that Neville's grandmother couldn't see it. She called his love of plants a childish hobby, and was now trying to guilt him into marrying a witch he didn't like. The smile that had started curving Harry's lips at realizing he could help the twins, became much brighter at seeing how he could help Neville...and himself.

He finished several minutes later, and looked it all over carefully. He didn't think he needed a weapon shed, a mechanic shop, or a sickroom, but they were mandatory, and it wasn't as if he couldn't find some other use for them.

"If you are finished," Haversaw said, placing the parchment she had been reading to one side, "I will take you to see the focus maker that arrived from America last night." she said, getting to her feet.

"He is right next door, but the goblins insist that no visitor is to be left to wander at will, especially you or your friends," she said with an amused smirk.

Harry sighed, wondering if the fact he, Ron, and Hermione had broken into the bank, would always haunt them. It had been done out of necessity, one of the steps needed to win the war with Voldemort, a course of action they had not like to take.

"After that, Ragnar wants to talk to you, he says it will take about an half hour, an hour at the most. By the time you are done, I will be free again, we can continue over tea."

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A week later...

Harry felt distinctly over dressed as he followed a witch by the name of Bethany Walters, aka Keeper Walters, through the winding halls of the American branch of Grinotts. His meeting with Haversaw the week before had told him that anyone coming into America for a stay longer than two weeks, or one that placed them amoung Muggles would be assigned a keeper, but he did not know exactly what a eeper did.

The goblins they passed gave him what Ron called the stink eye. Harry was convinced it was how he was dressed that earned him the dirty looks. His meeting with Ragnar had been a result of the goblins desire to present him with a parting gift, a very elaborate, costly, and useful gift.

By law, the basilisk he had killed in his second year at Hogwarts, belonged to him. The goblins had been hired on his behalf to harvest it, and all of it had been stored at the bank, along with his invisibility cloak, and the Sorcerer's stone.

Ragnar had taken it upon himself to order made from the hide, two sets of hunters garb, one in the black hide taken from the back, and one that was from the soft grey underbelly. He hadn't stopped at the trousers and shirt. He also had made matching boots, belts, bracers, gloves, and pouches. All had been heavily charmed, far more than was typical. While wearing it, he was impervious to weather, fire, acid, most magic, and most teeth or claws.

Two knives had been made out of the fangs; odd looking knives as mythril had been melded to the teeth, turning them into an nearly unbreakable blade, one that could deliver a nasty dose of basilisk vemon from a vial hidden in the hilt.

A number of the smallest teeth had been crafted into a necklace, each tooth a container for a common, but useful spell. The tooth in the middle, which was slightly larger, and wrapped in mythril wire, was meant to be a portkey. Harry had been given the instructions on how to charm it, and how to change the spells stored in the other teeth. Only he could remove it, and it couldn't be used to choke him.

A rib bone had been made into a bow for him, complete with a string from a dragon's heart. Arrows had been made out of a tree that grew only in the goblin realm, their tips had been made from the larger teeth. They would penetrate almost anything, and would return to the quiver, unbroken, seconds after being used.

The last two of the so called gifts had caused him to surge from his chair in angry protest. An ankle length, hooded coat had been made for him using more of the hide, and had lined with his cloak. He hadn't been told how it worked, but he didn't need to reverse it to become invisible, the cost would somehow know when he wished to not be seen.

The Sorcerer's stone had been turned into an earring-it was supposed to have been distroyed. It twinkled from his ear even now, dispite his angry refusals. He was stuck with it, unless he cut his ear off and he wasn't willing to go that far to be rid of it.

"I know you have had a focus made frm your wand, but it never hurts to have one made from scratch, if possible," the keeper said, breaking the silence unexpectedly. She hadn't said anything since leaving the mirror room.

"It is often the case that by having two, you are balanced with one being stronger with offensive spells, and the other being stronger in defense. I am taking you to have that done now. Afterwards, we will meet with a goblin to ensure your finances are in order."

She fell silent after that, leaving Harry to think. He fingered the ring on his hand. To look at it, it seemed to be nothing more than a simple silver band, with obscure ddesigns etched into it. To look at it, no one would guess that once it had been the elder wand. The old wizard who had 23rd created it, had told him that by transforming it, the properties of its magic might have changed.

He hadn't been able to try casting with it, but it did feel a bit different, less hungry and more a part of him. It felt comfortable in a way it hadn't before.

An hour later, Harry was walking out of the focus maker's, feeling a bit dazed. It turned out that he was too compatible with his original wand to be able to make a focus from scratch. His left hand now wore the ring made from his holly and Phoenix feather wand. It seemed he was ambidextrous, and could cast magic with either hand.

Freed from the wand movements, and the vocalization of the spells he was casting, his magic seemed to just surge out of him. A simple Lumos spell manifested in a way that it burned through three brick walls, and a steel door. It also caught the buildings on fire, and his panicked "Aguamenti" came forth like a flash flood.

Harry supposed having a partial block placed on him until he learned to use his focus, wasn't the worst thing that could have been done to him. He thought he might have it for some time as he had to learn to cast in an entirely different way, using both hands. Learning which hand could be used to cast what spells was not going to be something he could learn quickly.

After leaving the focus maker, Harry was taken out side the village a short distance. They had to travel by mirror three times, and thankfully, they didn't spit him out as he had been when arriving. It was result of floo charms not completely meshing with mirror charms, he had been told, and it had been an experience he was delighted not to have to endure again, anytime soon.

Traveling by mirror was easy, like stepping trough an open door, and in his opinion, was much preferable to traveling by floo. The down side was that he couldn't use all mirrors. With flooing, as long as you had the powder, you could use any fireplace provided it was large enough to enter.

"This is Maen, she is a gnome," Walters said, introducing him to a very short female, sporting spiky lavender hair, big blue eyes, and a slightly bulbous nose.

"Maen, this is Mr. Rhodes, we have come to see..."

"Ya ain't foolin me, Keeper. I know who I am looking at, and his name ain't Rhodes, at least it wasn't until recently," Maen said, smiling at Harry and thrusting out an grease covered hand. She made a face, wiped most of the grease away, and thrust out her hand again. Harry's hand swallowed hers when he shook it, though she had a surprisingly strong grip.

"Pleased ta meet cha," she said cheerfully, thrusting a small, callused, and very greasy hand at Harry. Noticing its condition, she snatched it back with an "Oops", and said something Harry didn't understand. When she thrust a hand at him again, it was clean.

Bemused, Harry shook her hand, surprised at how strong her grip was when her hand was tiny in his.

"Been as fidgety as fox hunted rabbit since hearing I would be making you wheels. Heard all about how you off'ed an archdemon. Not been any here since my pappy was a nibbler, but he grew up hearing about them from his Mammy, and told me about them.

"Just so you know, us gnomes live a long time, I am barely an adult at a hundurd and two tens. So you know its been a long time since we had one fearing us.

"Anyhoohow, I madeja something special, something I call an allgo because it can go just about anywhere. Only place you isn't goin to be takin it is in deep water. By deep, I mean like you can't take it so deep you drown."

Harry couldn't help smiling, he liked Maen's cheerful, friendliness. She made him think of Dobby in a roundabout way.

When she took his hand, and began tugging him towards a building, Harry went along willingly. He could feel her magic, it put him in mind of how good the sun felt on your face on a spring day.

"I know what a hunter needs, but knowing what one needs, isn't knowing what one likes. So I talked to one of your friends, I did. Hermineonee told me that you liked blue and red equally, with black coming in next. She told me you were shit at usin maps, and that you don't care for sleeping in tents. She said more, but you can see for yourself."

She opened the door to the building and led him inside. Harry gasped, and gave Walters a startled look when she spoke from beside him. She had been so quiet, he had forgotten she was with them.

"What exactly is that?" she asked, frowning at the vehicle in front of them. Harry followed her gaze, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. To his eyes, all American vehicles looked odd. He rather liked the way it gleamed blue or black depending on how the light hit it.

"A truck...sort of a jeep, wid a bit of a Suv thrown in," Maen said proudly. Walters frowned and let out an annoyed huff.

"That is ridiculous, why not one or the other?" She demanded to know.

The look the gnome gave the keeper made Harry's lips twitch. It was the same one Hermione gave Ron when she found him to be trying.

"He needs the power of a truck, the terrain maneuverability of a jeep, and the sleeping compacity of an suv. I gave him that and more. Yes, it appears a little strange to you, but you cannot claim it ugly."

Harry took a closer look at the truck. It seemed a bit blocky to him, almost square in shape. In his opinion, it would look better without the odd bit at the back, and if its tires were not so large.

"Okay, maybe it is strange, but your noodle will see it elseways, once you hear what I did wid it," Maen told Harry confidently.

"Hunters die when the tires go flat at a bad time. They die when they can't get inside their wheels fast enough. They die when they loose their keys. You don't need be worrying about none of that. No flat tires for you. Not even a spell will do it. The doors will open at your touch. The key never leave the slot, and the engine will always start. Mind you, you haveta bring it to me now and then, soes I can make a little nip and tuck to keep it mean.

"A werewolf or vampy tries to hitch, they will get a zappy that will make them tuck tail and run away howling. A devil tries pulling it apart, they will find themselves with no hands. Can't find a fuel station? No sweat. Tap your focus three times on the starter slot, and it is running on magic.

"No-maj coppers on your tail, and you need a little sneaky to get away? Easily peasely, just tap your focus to the paint, and it will change to another color, and the coppers will see a truck or a jeep. Not enough suv in it, to look like one," Maen said, walking towards the truck, and motioning at Harry to follow. 

Feeling a bit bedazzled, Harry glanced at Walters, and saw that she looked as dumbfounded as he felt. Maen rattled on, telling Harry how to access the storage in the tiny bed of truck. You had to open the tailgate, flip a hidden latch to get to the magicaly enlarged area beneath the bed. It could not be detected by no-maj unless pointed out to them, and they wouldn't be able to see just how large it truly was.

She went on to say that the truck could not be stolen, and that there was a built in Reducio, Engorgement charms placed on it, as well as one to summon it. The last thing she told him was that the truck could go places that none of her other creations could, even into water deep enough to cover the engine; he wasn't to worry about getting wet however.

Harry wasn't the only one to gasp in alarm, when she grabbed his hand, and cut his palm before pressing it to the truck. There was a rush of magic that made him feel a bit woosey, and then she was beaming at him, telling him that the allgo was now offically his. Walters took his hand and quickly healed the shallow cut, berating the smug gnome as she did.

They began arguing, but Harry paid them no attention. He was busy trying to process it all. He groaned inwardly at the realization that he had been given a very lavish gift, something he normally refused. He couldn't this time. Maen had gone through too much trouble on his behalf for him to reject it. He looked at the vehicle again and decided to think of it as the most useful and thoughtful gift anyone had ever given him.

Once the two females ended their arguement, Harry was handed a potion by Walters. It wasn't one he could identify, and he was more than a little reluctant to drink it. He eyed the shimmering blue liquid in mistrust. Not only did he not know what it was, but years of being harped at by Snape had installed in him a distrust of potions brewed by anyone whose skill with a cauldron was unknown to him.

"It is a memory enhancing potion," The keeper said, watching Harry's expression. Hunters were a distrusting bunch, but some were worse than others. "All it does is enable you to learn a lot faster than you normally would. With it, you will be able to learn to drive in one day."

Harry didn't think Walters meant to harm him, but that didn't mean the potion was correctly brewed, or that she was aware of the fact she wasn't.

"I don't get paid enough for this," Walters sighed, plucking the vial from Harry's fingers, and drinking a small amount.

"While we wait for the proof that nothing adverse is going to happen from me drinking the potion, let me tell you what to expect over the course of the next week. Today, it's driving. Tomorrow, we will mrror out to your property where you will be introduced to the elves that are compatible with its magic. Hopefully, there will be at least two that are also compatible with your magic."

"I don't understand what you mean? Since when do elves need to be compatible? Why am I being introduced to them when I made it clear that I was more than..." Harry's protest died off when the keeper raised a hand.

"You need to truly understand, Mr. Potter, this isn't England. Quite a bit of what you learned there, does not apply here. As witches and wizards, we are genetically the same. However, we have been forced to operate very differently because of our environment.

"I lived in England for a year as part of my training. I was completely and utterly shocked by how different life was there. Your werewolves are aware of what they are, and they take steps to ensure they do not harm anyone. Your vampires do not kill those they feed from, and they somehow reimburse those they feed on. They, and the werewolves hunt down and kill those that go against the restrictions placed on them.

"Your gnomes are mean in nature, destructive, and look like large potatoes with arms, legs, and are vermin.

"What got me the most were your elves. They are almost the exact opposite of the ones I know. I felt so sorry for them while thinking at the same time, they asked to be treated badly by not fighting back. I met one little fellow, I can't remember his name, but he told me that they did nothing to help protect their home from demons, and wouldn't know one unless it was in its natural form.

"To be utterly honest, until I stopped expecting things to be like they are here, I had a hell of a time functioning. Everything seemed bsckwards, wrong, and I kept making mistakes. You will be hunting, you making such mistakes will get you killed!"

The last word was almost shouted, and Harry half expected to be attacked.

"Now, to answer your question, our elves have always needed to be compatible. I never saw something being build while in England, so maybe its done differently. Here, a few drops of your blood will be added to a potion that will be sprinkled along the edges of your land. This will mark your boundaries, tying the land to you and the wards. More blood will be needed to construct the house and any other buildings. It is needed to tie them to you, the land, and the wards.

"You can't get along without elves here. They can see through a meatsuit to the demon inside, so you won't find one being let on the grounds. Elves are free here, Mr. Potter. They need to be able to use their own initiative in order to protect their home, and their sir or ma'am. They need to be magically compatible, so that when the bond is formed, they can interact with, and strengthen the wards. It is required for them to do other things but that is the most important reason."

Harry nodded, feeling a bit as if he had just been scolded. The keeper's tone had not been harsh, but her expression told him that she was annoyed at having to explain. How he was supposed to have known about the elves, he didn't know, but then, he had been told that America was very different, so maybe that was it. Maybe Walters thought his asking the question meant he wasn't paying attention to people when they warned him.

Potions rarely worked slowly, so the fact that Walters didn't show any signs of being affected by the shimmering blue liquid, had to mean that she was telling him, was not a lie. Harry changed the subject by drinking the potion. He felt a slight tingling spread over him, but it was gone before he could become alarmed. Oddly, it didn't taste horrible; it tasted bit sour but not overly tart like a lemon. It made up for that with a horrendous smell. In comparion, Dudley's dirty socks smelled like roses.

Maen took his wrist, and lead him over to the truck. "You'll be drivin legal before you knew it. Ain't much to it, it's trying to remember all the whys that will getja," She said, crawling into the driver's seat, and into the passenger seat, while Walters camly climbed into back seat. The interior was far more spacious then it appeared from the outside, and it felt very luxurious with bucket seats that seemed to hug your body, the padded steering wheel, and other details he wasn't used to seeing...like cup holders. Most surfaces were dove grey, but here and there, accents of blue and black could be seen. All in all, it was to his liking, and Harry had no complaints about the colors chosen.

"Let me explain the howzits and whatzits while the potion is freshest," Maen said, beaming at him. Her legs were not long enough to clear the seats, and Harry found the way she bumped the toes of her boots together be to charmingly childish.

"That thingamajig," she pointed at a bright yellow button, "is what you push to switch over to magical energy. Push it again to switch back. Keep in mind that it takes three hours to recharge, you are running on fuel until it does. It only needs to recharge when you switch from magic to fuel. See that meter, it tells you how much fuel you have. There are two tanks holding 16 gallons each. You can go a hundred and one tens on a tank while on level ground. You got about half that in rugged terrain.

"That dumafloochy," she said, pointing to a switch next to the yellow button, "is to keep you cool or warm; blue for cool, red for warm."

Harry played with it, discovering that he could adjust the temperature. He switched it to a blue that was almost white, and in seconds, they were all shivering. Switching it to a red nearly black had them pouring sweat just as quickly.

"Might need to make a few adjustments there," Walters said, wiping sweat from her eyes. Harry agreed. Maen mumbled something about knowing what she was doing, and then carried on.

"This dohicky works the camper," she said, pushing a green button. Walters let out a startled squawk when the seat vanished from under her. Harry turned to see why she shouted and sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide at seeing the keeper sprawled on the floor of what was the equivalent of a large, one room flat.

"A warning would be nice!" Walters snapped as she got up from the floor.

"I put in as much no-maj ojects as possible, they were easier to modify than magical cookery." Maen stated, ignoring the indignant witch, "Even managed to provide a portal mirror on the back of the bathroom door. You can use the one above the sink to make a call." She pushed the button again, resulting in the keeper yelping as she was knocked off her feet as the camper reverted back to what Harry would later learn was an interior typical to an suv. Thankfully, she landed in her seat and not on the floor again.

"If by chance, you need spend the night in the company of a no-maj, just lay down the back of the seats," Maen said, hiding the grin on her round face, she loved messing with the keepers who she saw as being too uppity and bossy. "You will need to get no-maj camping gear, not my job to get that.

"See that knob on the dash next to the window, that is your rainswipers,  turn to the right to turn them on low. Turn it again to get them moving fast. Hold it down until you hear a click, and then turn it left to change the appearance of the allgo. Its random, giving you either a truck, jeep or suv, that is black, blue, or red."

Harry became a bit anxious when the gnome rubbed her hands together, grinning at him maniacally.

"Now, for the operating, which is the fun part!" 

"Heaven help us!" Harry heard from the back seat.

Driving turned out to be fairly easy to learn once he got out into an open field where he didn't have to worry about damaging anything. True to the keeper's word, by the end of the day, Harry had a driver's license. Maen had taught him how to drive, while Walters had read him the no-maj laws on driving, and just as she said, the potion ensured he remembered it all. He still needed practice parking, but he did it well enough to get by.

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A pounding on the motel room door dragged a groggy Harry out of bed the next morning. He had not slept well due to a dream. In it he had been chained to a stove, forced to stir a massive pot of soup. Behind him, out of sight, there were people singing "Henry the Eighth". Each time they sang the word 'tup', someone groped his bum, and he would awaken with a jerk. Minutes later he would fall asleep again, and it would start all over.

Stumbling to the door, he jerked it open, expecting to see Walters. His grumpy expression turned to one of delight when he discovered Bill standing on the other side.

"Hullo Harry," Bill said, hugging him. "You surprised to see me?"

"Of course, I am," Harry said with a yawn. "Come in, I am not dressed to talk with the door wide open," He urged, belatedly realizing he was standing in plain sight, clad only in a pair of boxers.

Laughing, Bill followed Harry into the room, waiting until Harry had pulled on a pair of jeans before holding out a vial. That keeper said you would need this. Memory potions have the side effect of causing odd dreams, which result in the imbiber getting little sleep."

Recognizing a pepper up potion when he saw it, Harry took it, and sniffed it warily. It smelled right, the color was as it should be, so he downed it with a shudder. In his opinion, dragon dung would taste similar. Instantly, the fog of sleep cleared and he became more alert.

"Not that I am not excited to see you, but what are you doing here?" he asked, tugging on a shirt.

"Dealing with stubborn goblins. Our goblins see the ones here as inferior, and unworthy of building or warding your house, so insist on being allowed to do it, the ones here think its a ploy to take over, so are threatening to cut off the head of any Gringott associated goblin stepping foot in America. The AHA called on the cursebreakers guild, and my team was sent to do the job.

"Naturally, I searched you out as soon as I could. That keeper assigned to you could go toe to toe with mum. I thought I was going to have to pull my wand to get her to tell where to find you. Thankfully, a member of the AHA higher in rank happened by and told me where to look for you.

"I wish I could say that I came just because I wanted to see you, but I can't. I was sent to get you, you need to be there when your house is built."

"Don't I need..." Harry trailed off when someone knocked on his door. He opened it to find an annoyed Walters on the other side.

"I am sorry, Mr. Potter. I was just informed that..." the keeper said, and seemed to reconsider her words as she then blurted. "The goblins are again playing their stubbornness games, so someone else was brought in. They are waiting, so that means that we need to leave now in order to get you bonded with elves. I am going to get something in the way of breakfast for us. It will take about fifteen minutes, please be ready to leave when I get back."

"Odd bird, that one," Bill said once Harry shut the door. Harry snorted in laughter as he sat to put on his shoes and socks.

"Honestly, I am wondering if all of America is odd. Those I have met so far, or rather, by our standards they are. I imagine they have found me to be just as odd. I haven't understood much that wasn't first explained."  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

It felt strange to be barreling down a back road alone. It felt just as strange to be the one driving. Outside the truck, the canary whipped by in blurs of red, browns, and hints of yellow, black, or white.

It had been two days since he had got the truck, and that long since his last vision. Since then, Sam had met people with green eyes, but none had matched the vivid green of the sword's hilt. None had come close.

Currently, he was headed for an old town called Arcadaes. He had talked to someone who had said that his brother had mentioned something weird was going on there. Sam could not think of a reason why Dean would head for a town long ago abandoned, and nearly three hundred miles away, but it was the only clue Sam had, so was worth following for that reason alone.

From what he had read, the coastal town had once been a bustling hubbub of fishermen and farmers until blue devils moved in. Devils of any hue could be a problem, but the town's people should have been able to wipe them out. Why they had instead abandoned the town was a bit of a mystery.

One town's person reported that it wasn't just water devils invading, mountain, forest, and flatland devils had helped to over run the town.

That couldn't be the reason, the different clans would not work together like that. They attacked any devil not from their clan. Even if two groups clashed over a territorial dispute, it was unlikely they would have been large enough in numbers to drive out the town's people. There had to be another explanation.

Tweny minutes later, Sam pulled off the road. He had to pee, his legs were starting to cramp, and he was getting hungry. After helping a dying bush by watering it, and stretching out his legs, Sam sat on the tail gate, munching on the sandwich and fruit he had purchased earlier that day, and sipping water from a bottle he had filled at the last fuel station. His thoughts were on his brother when a vision hit.

He was in a parking lot littered heavily with trash and wind blown debris. A few dozen yards in front of him was a building with broken windows, and heat blistered siding. A sign over the door read "Arcadaes City Hall". The 'A' and the 'S' hung upside and swung side to side in the night breeze.

It was as if he was cut off from his emotions because when the Impala pulled into the parking lot, and cruised towards him, he felt nothing. The closer It got, the less real it seemed. It was a ghost car by the time it came to a stop before him; he could see through it. The window rolled down and the ghostly face of his brother was revealed. Idly, Sam wondered why he could see through the car, but couldn't see the interior until the window was down.

"I was someplace I could see a Roarasaurus, Sammy. I think it ate me as suddenly I was inside it. I left something there, find it." Dean said, rolling the window up again. He drove away, disappearing into a swirling bank of mist. Sam watched him go, never saying a word.

Coming back to his senses with a loud gasp that startled the crow about to steal his sandwich. It let out a loud few and took off in a flurry of feathers. There hadn't been a bird in sight when the vision hit, so the burst of sound and movement caught Sam off guard. He let out a yell, and nearly topple over the side of the tailgate jerking away from the crow.

"You're welcome to it, buddy," he said, tossing the sandwich down. He got up, closed the tailgate and got into the truck with his water bottle.

"What the hell is a Roarasaurus?" he wondered aloud, frowning as he started the engine. Pulling back onto the road, he continued on his way. He passed by the faded, battered sign announcing the Arcadaes City Limits twenty minutes later without seeing it. He was focused on the vision, trying to decipher its meaning, or even if it had been real.

Bobby hadn't thought so, but Sam was still considering the possibility that he was losing his mind. It happened sometimes, stress and the solitude wore at a hunter until they went off the deep end. He just hoped something happened soon to give him a clue.

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Sam sat in the truck, gazing in astonishment at the head of a T-rex rising up over the roofs of buildings whose signs had been rendered ineligible by decades of weather.

No, it couldn't be this easy...could it? Could this be the Roarasaurus mentioned in his vision. Sam was sceptical. One of the first things he had learned once he started hunting, was that if it seemed too good to be true, it was usually a big, fat lie. Usually wasn't always however. He wouldn't know either way unless he checked it out.

He sat for a few minutes longer, scanning his surroundings. He didn't like how close some of the buildings were. If devils had once over ran the town, it was possible they were still there. Blue devils didn't like sunlight, so were prone to hiding in shadows. The buildings provided plenty of that, and the wily, creatures could be watching him, waiting on him to leave the shelter offered by the truck. Cranking the engine, Sam went in search of a parking place that was in the open, far enough away from any buildings that he was in no danger of being swarmed.

He found it only a few minutes later. It was another parking lot, a large one that was much closer to the T-rex. It was in worse condition than the first; a few trees had broken through the pavement, one of which had a truck as thick as his waist, the others were much smaller having trunks the thickness of his wrists.

Again, Sam sat in the truck, scanning the area. A large, sprawling concrete building lacking glass in its windows and doors stood slowly crumbling at least two hundred feet to his left. Behind him were the ruins of three smaller buildings. They had collapsed to the point he doubted there could be anything hiding in them that he needed to worry about, especially since he wouldn't be going near them.

To his left was another large building. It too had no glass in the windows or doors. Through the roof grew an oak tree that towered over everything else in the area. The lack of roof meant there were few places for devils to hide, at least not blue ones.

In front of him was a dozen small buildings nearly taken over by saplings and over growth. To the left of them, he could see a large arch on which he could barely make out the letters painted on it. It was an amusement park, and he was betting that it was where he would find the T-rex.

Pulling out his gun, he checked that it was loaded out of habit, and then fished another clip out of the glove box. He debated taking a second, and decided it couldn't hurt. The first thing he noticed on getting out was the salt scented air. It reminded him that Acadaes was a coastal town, which meant if there were devils lurking about, they would be blue ones. All he had to do was stay away from places heavy with shadows, and he should be safe enough.

Tucking the clip in a pocket, and the gun in his waist band at his lower back, Sam headed for the park's entrance with a determined stride.

Ten minutes later, his gun was in his hand, and the hair on his nape was standing up. All the booths, all the food stalls, all the rides were faded, and in some cases, rusted. Sam knew the names for the Ferris wheel, the carousel, and the roller coaster. The rest of the rides were unknown to him. What had him on edge wasn't air of abandonment that hung over the park, it was the feeling that he was being watched. It was like a touch on the skin the sensation was so strong.

He paused at a sort of alley formed of wooden buildings. A few had collapsed in on themselves, and the entire area lay in shadows. At the end, he could see the giant T-rex. He stood studying the buildings. The one nearest him had metal stairs leading up to a pair of swinging doors, half off their hinges. They were the same faded red as the stairs. The painted sign above them read " Fun House". The trailer like building across from them fade images painted on them so faded, Sam couldn't make out what they were supposed to be. Above the gaping opening left by a broken window, were letters that spelled out "F nel akes". He had no idea what it meant.

Backing up, he began to hunt for another way to the tin dinosaur. He didn't trust the eerie silence or the scent of salt water on the breeze. Both were signs he couldn't ignore in combination with so many heavily shadowed buildings. It was the perfect set up for a devil ambush.

On the other side of the buildings, he found the remains of a train. He had come across them before, but this one was tiny as if meant for children. The track seemed to curve in the direction he needed to go, so he began following them. Several minutes later, he stepped into an area where the rusted hulks of cars and trucks sat.

Quite a few of the trucks were hooked to a rounded trailer like object that had doors and windows. One had an open door and a missing roof, inside he could see what had undoubtedly been a couch. Its cushions were little more than moldering lumps from which grew grass and weeds. He figured that they must have been living areas of a sort no longer used.

Just beyond them stood the T-rex, towering over them like a battle scared titan. Moving carefully through the junked vehicles, Sam headed for it. He was passing a large car, only a fifty or so feet from his goal, when a door he hadn't seen, opened in the belly and devils swarmed out. There were dozens of them, of all hues, and he froze in shock. What he was seeing, he had been told was impossible.

Blue demons did not come into bright sunlight, the clans didn't mingle, and yet, here they were, rushing at him, gibbering, shouting insults and threats. All were armed with knives, swords, or clubs. They were nearly upon him before his brain kicked in and he began to shoot. It was impossible to miss hitting one, but there were so many, that he emptied a clip without putting a noticeable dent in their numbers.

Sam turned to run but he had waited too long, and the devils were fast. The few leading the horde jumped on him, slicing his arm and his cheek. He threw them off with a frantic shout and raced for the car, climbing up on the roof. He quickly reloaded, and began to fire again. Devils were not smart, and they were cowards, he expected them to scatter, to run away squealing in fear...but they didn't. Soon, his gun was clicking on an empty chamber, and he struggled to load the last while kicking away any that managed to climb up. He was going to die, he knew it, and sent out a mental apology to his brother.

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Americans, Harry decided, were very organized in their disorganization. They rushed around, shouting, and just when you came to believe that they were all quite mad, and incapable of finishing a task, it was finished. They also seemed rather fond of doing several things at once.

In the three days since he had opened the door to find Bill, he had met hundreds of house elves. Most had politely told him that they were not a match, some had only shook their heads before leaving, others had been quite rude in their rejection of him. He had begun to think none were compatible, but then a timid little fellow by the name of Mig, smiled at him shyly, and sat at feet.

A few dozen elves later, Mig's older sister, E'la, informed him that she didn't cook and didn't wash windows, before perching herself on a near-by rock, where she spent the next hour sneering at elves and calling them weak because they were not compatible with her sir.

More than once he heard Bill's angry shouts, when one set of goblins, or the other, became difficult. They stopped being stubborn when both Bill and Walters cast a spell on them that gave them the equivalent to a hard swat on the bum. They must have protested as Harry heard the keeper shout that if they were going to behave as ill mannered children, they would be treated as such.

After that, his house had been quickly built. Bill and his team finished the warding the next day, and then Harry had been forced to suffer dealing with a witch hired to design the interior. She ingored everything he said, until E'la stepped in. Every time the designer brushed Harry off, Ela popped in to smack her with a wooden spoon and scold her for being rude. It took five times of being hit on the bum by the elf before the witch caught on that Harry was close to doing worse.

Finally, it was mostly all done, and he had been able to relax in his new house. All that remained to get done was to stock the library and potion lab.

Harry decided to wander through the house, taking it all in. The living room had been done in what the designer called desert hues. That seemed to be light shades of browns, with hints of green and blue. Muggle landscapes hung on the wall, an earthenware vase filled with the tailfeathers from a peacock added a splash of color to one corner. The overstuffed furniture had been upholstered in a hide he wasn't familiar with, but quite liked. It was soft and of a hue that made Harry think of a sandy beach. It seemed odd not to have a hearth dominating the room, but one wasn't needed.

The library had been done in cream and browns, Harry wasn't really fond of it, it seemed rather dull, but he had been told that once there were books on the shelves, that would change as they would bring in the needed color. The kitchen was a bit odd as it had burgundy walls, a black and white tiled floor, and all the cabinets were made from a wood that seemed almost gold in hue. Hints of green could be found in the knobs. The cookstove was a massive cast iron thing that Harry wasn't certain he could use the muggle way. It and the icebox were black.

It wasn't that he disliked the colors, they just seemed rather bold after experiencing the softer hues in the other rooms. Walking into his room felt exceedingly oddly. It was light, airy and spacious. It had been done in muted blues and greens with white furniture. The bedding, lampshades, curtains, and bedside rugs echoed those hues in various patterns, with hints of black to add a bit of contrast. Star gazed lilies charmed to never wither sat on his low dresser, and softly hued seascapes at dawn, gave further splashes of color.

It was unlike any room he had ever slept in and Harry rather liked it. There were two other bedrooms, one done in green, one done in grey, blue and lavender. He hadn't paid them much attention past seeing any guest he might have would be comfortable. They shared a bath done in a pale silvery grey, black marble counter tops, with vivid green accessories.

His favorite room, without a doubt was his bathroom. It had grass for a floor, trees for walls, and a ceiling charmed to look like a sunny day when the lights were on, and a clear, starry night when they were off. The toilet and sink was cleverly designed to look like boulders. To bath, he could swim in a small crystal clear pool, or shower in a waterfall. Unlike the rest of the house, it wasn't charmed to appear differently to Muggles, Harry wasn't sure why.

Exiting the bathroom, Harry was a hit with the realization that he was free to hunt. A broad daylight smile curved his lips and he raced back to his room. Most of his gear was already packed to go; all he had to do was change into his hunting robes, buckle on his weapons and pouches, and he was good to go. He was almost shaking with excitement as he performed the ritual that would take him to where his skills were most needed.

Little did he know that this time, it wasn't a where, but a who that he was being sent too. He landed on his feet, not far from a monstrous metal construction of a dinosaur. The air was filled with the angry bellows of a human male, and the shrill voices of devils. Almost immediately, Harry spotted the source, a tall male was batting away devils of every color who managed to climb atop the car He was standing on. He had clearly been at it awhile, he was tiring, and covered in blood, his and the devils. He was also clearly beginning to tire. Every swing of the clubs in his hands came a second slower, and that meant the devils got even closer to him.

Drawing his knives, Harry let out a battle cry, and charged.

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

One moment, Sam was fighting for his life, using the clubs he had snatched up after his bullets had ran out, the next, a guy that he at first mistook for a shadow, had the devils attention because he was cutting through them like a whirling dervish.

It was like watching a well choreographed fake fight; the guy seemed to know exactly when to dodge, parry, and strike. What truly amazed Sam was the fact the guy was laughing, enjoying the fight.

Coming to his senses after a brief moment, Sam hopped down and began bashing heads, feeling rejuvenated now that help had arrived. The fight lasted only a few minutes more, and when the last devil fell twitching to the ground, his savior nudged one with the toe of his boot.

"Do they always work together like this?" he asked in a crisp, British accent, lifting his gaze to Sam's face.

Finding himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen, Sam shook his head.

"No, they do not. There isn't usually this many of them, either," he said, studying the stranger. He was short, coming only to Sam's shoulder, and it was hard to see where his wavy hair ended and the leather he wore began. With his hands encased in black, fingerless gloves, it was easy to understand why he had mistaken him for a shadow.

He was young, Sam guessed him to be around eighteen, maybe a little younger, and appealing in a way, a male had never been. Sam wouldn't call him pretty, there wasn't anything feminine about him, but he was undoubtedly attractive with big, green eyes, lush, rosy lips, and hair that shone like satin in the fading light. He had a lithe build that spoke of an active life, but remained slender.

Sam looked away, uncomfortable with the feelings he was experiencing. He was straight...wasn't he?

Harry listened, doing his own bit of looking. He was sure he was looking at a Muggle hunter-a very fit one. He had shaggy light brown hair that Harry wanted to bury his hands in, moss green eyes that shone with intelligence. He had a baby face that Harry found quite fetching. He was huge, easily taller than Bill, who was the tallest person Harry knew next to Hagrid, who was half giant. The layers of clothing worn didn't hide the fact the guy was muscular. All and all, it added up to an incredibly sexy package in Harry's opinion.

What the big hunter had to say was alarming, and Harry cast a quick look around. If the devils banding together wasn't one of the quirks he had been warned about, it was very possible that an archdemon was behind it. He needed to warn the Hunter's Association.

The shrill screech of ripping metal came from overhead, and Harry looked up to see the upper half of the dinosaur hurtling towards them. Beyond the jagged edges of the remaining body, he caught sight of dozens of devils cheering because "the nasty hunter was going to be squashed like a bug!"

The other hunter had long legs, and Harry had no doubts that he could move quickly, but there wasn't any way he could be fast enough to avoid the massive piece of steel and tin rushing at them. Leaving him to die wasn't an option in Harry's book, so he did the only thing he could do. He lunged forward, wrapped his arms about Sam, and apparated.

Sam let out a grunt as he landed on his back, the dark haired hunter's light weight just enough to drive the air from his lungs. He felt the hunter crawling off him as he struggled to fill his lungs. Not being able to breathe was a scary sensation he would never get used too.

Once he had caught his breath, he sat up, looking around. They were sitting on the lawn of mid-sized white house, next to a lake.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, getting to his feet. An anxious Harry did the same.

"I had too, I couldn't leave you to die. You might have long legs, but you couldn't have ran so fast you avoided being squashed!" Harry blurted, eyeing the clubs still in Sam's hands. He really hoped he didn't end up being forced to defend himself, it was bad enough he had used magic to save the big hunter.

Sam wasn't sure what to think. On one hand, his life had been saved twice by the hunter before him, but on the other hand, something extremely strange had just happened.

"Explain what just happened," he said, deciding to go with the 'saving his life' bit at least for the moment. He couldn't think of a reason why someone who meant him harm would save his life twice, revealing something strange about himself the second time.

"Not all magic comes from demons," Harry began hesitantly, thinking that if he was in for a knut, he might as well be in for a gallon. "I was born with it, and I hunt demons. I am different from you only in being born with magic.

"My name is Harry, I am eighteen, and I came to America to help hunt the things preying on humans. I have trained since I was eleven to do just that. Hunting is what my family has done for many generations." Harry said, and then paused, studying the hunter's face for a moment. "I was going to say that I no more wanted to harm people than you do, but I don't know that. I don't know you. You might be one of those who thinks that sacrificing a few for the greater good is alright.

"I don't believe that. I have been that person, the one meant as a sacrifice so the greater good could be achieved. At the time, I agreed with it, the situation was rather complicated, but I have had time to think since then. I still agree about my being sacrificed, if I wasn't, millions of people would have died. I guess in retrospect, I was less a sacrifice and more a volunteer, because I couldn't have lived with myself otherwise." Harry said, finally realizing that he was revealing details about himself that were not relavent to what he has been saying. He just hoped he hadn't revealed so much that Sam caught on to the fact that there were more people like him.

The other hunter was just standing there with a face blank of expression. It worried Harry as he didn't know what it meant.

"Sorry, I am nervous, and I strayed off subject. What I meant to say is that to me, the only human life that is without worth is someone who knowingly, and willingly associates with demons. Even then, I give them a chance. Some were tricked or were misguided. Things are rarely merely black and white, life is mostly shades of grey and is often not what it seems. This sometimes includes those working with demons. "

Sam didn't say anything, just stood looking at Harry, as he mulled over what had been said. The smaller hunter had an open expression; Sam could read his emotions readily.

Bobby might disagree, his dad and brother surely would, but Sam just could not bring himself to believe that anything said, was less than the truth. There was more to the story, he was certain of it, but right now all he was seeing was a seasoned but young hunter who could have let him die, but instead had placed his life in danger twice, so Sam could live. That spoke volumes as far as he was concerned.

Dropping the clubs, he held out a hand, "Pleased to met you, Harry. I am Sam. I want to thank you for saving my life."

He was rewarded with a bright smile that lit up Harry's gorgeous green eyes. Sam liked seeing Harry smile, and his own lips curved in a smile in an answer. Becoming aware of the fact, Sam made the pretense of looking around.

"Where am I and how did you bring me here?" he asked, determined to avoid looking at Harry as much as possible. He was doubly confused. He didn't understand if his attraction to Harry was a one person thing, if it was magic induced, or if he had just never noticed that he was into males. He couldn't see how that was possible, but suddenly finding himself attracted to one didn't seem possible either. It didn't help

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"I can't explain how magic works," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. He popped a crisp into his mouth, chewed, and then washed it down with a swallow of a fizzy drink that claimed to be lemon-lime favored but tasted like neither in his opinion. It was still lovely though, and he was going to have another one.

"I could find ways to explain most things, but understanding the mechanics of magic isn't something I can. I don't know how it is possible, or why I have it and you don't. Unless it is something genetically different about me, but if that is the case, why has no doctors ever discovered it?"

"You have been to see doctors?" Sam asked before biting into one of the best ham sandwiches he had ever tasted. Harry had used a different kind of mustard than he was used too. It was slightly sweet, and had a bite to it. Sam wondered idly, if it was an English mustard, and what it was called.

"I am human, I get hurt and become sick just like you do," Harry said, now biting into a pickle. He chewed it, looking at Sam thoughtfully. He was trying to keep the fact that he wasn't the only one to be born with magic a secret, but do so without actually lying. It wasn't easy, especially where doctors where concerned. He had never been to a muggle doctor, but wasn't sure if healers had the means to delve into the world of genetics.

He decided to play it safe and change to topic to Sam. He was very interested in learning more about the muggle hunter. If nothing else, he would be a source of needed information, but Harry was hoping to gain a friend at the least. Outside of finding him incredibly sexy, Harry was finding he liked Sam as a person.

Granted, he didn't know him well, but so far, he was pleasant to talk too, and had been nothing less than agreeable.

"My turn to ask a few questions," Harry said, getting up to get more fizzy drinks for the two of them. He spied Ela giving him the stink-eye because she didn't agree with a muggle hunter being in the house, and she didn't like him doing what she considered to be her job. Harry gave her a warning look.

It was his house, he would invite who he pleased, it was his kitchen and if he wanted to make sandwiches, or any thing else, he would do it. She might as well get used to the fact that he wasn't going to sit around and wait for her to serve him. He was quite capable of caring for himself.

Returning to the table, he handed Sam a cola, and sat down with another of the lemon-lime drinks.

"While I have many questions I would like answered, what I want to know first is how you came to be in the situation I found you in? I didn't see a working vehicle, you were using clubs obviously taken from the devils. I can't imagine you walking in and picking a fight."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "I only walked from a parking lot close by. I left the truck I was driving there. I was looking for something my brother might have left as a clue to where he is."

Sam fell silent, fiddling with the can of cola as he debated what to say. He decided to tell Harry everything; his gut was telling him that Harry would take him seriously.

"So, you were there by chance?" Harry said once Sam was finished. "I am asking to be sure I understand."

"No, I was there because I was told he mentioned going there," Sam corrected, watching Harry's face. He took it as a good sign that his talk of visions hadn't been blown off right away.

"And when did you have the vision of him?"

"Just outside of the town. Why are you asking?"

"If I understood correctly, you said that it would be unlike your brother to go off on his own like that, I mean without letting you know."

"When hunting, yes. However, Dean has been known to disappear once in awhile.. His thoughts get cluttered, and he needs to stop thinking, and have what he calls fun. He spends as long as twelve hours in bed with some female, and then returns refreshed, and normally knowing just what we need to do. He usually calls at some point, but not always.

"That was what I thought happened at first. I thought he had hooked up with someone, needing the down time to clear his head. We were on a hunt that was confusing both of us."

"Sam, you are confusing me, you said that when hunting, he wouldn't take off without letting you know, and then said that he sometimes disappeared to clear his head. You also said that he had gone to the next town seeking information."

"Okay, you need to know how my brother thinks," Sam said in a resigned tone. Dean's way of looking at things was hard to grasp for anyone that hadn't grown up with him "

"We were hunting in the town we were staying in. Dean wouldn't have just disappeared on me there. However, we weren't finding any clues that there was something to be hunted; which meant we weren't actually hunting. Dean went to the next town to find out if they were having problems, which meant he was hunting. However, if he found nothing, he wouldn't be hunting."

"Are you sure he is sane? That is the most mental way of looking at hunting that I have ever heard!" Harry blurted incredulously.

"I know my brother's way of viewing things is unorthodox, but he is one of the best hunters I know. He is impulsive, and rushes in, which drives me up the wall, we might get banged up, but thanks to the way he thinks, we have survived some harrowing hunts," Sam said quietly. His faith in his brother was complete and unshakable. His trust in Dean was of a level not even his father or Bobby came close to matching.

"Sam, I think someone is influencing your visions. Before you say anything, let me explain why," Harry said with an uhappy expression.

"I am not the only person born with magic. I know a few people who have visions, they have had them all their lives. They see images, hear disjointed bits of conversation. One picks up bits of emotions from what she sees, the other seems to pick up random thoughts. This happens even when no people appear in the visions.

"I am very close to one of them. She is one of my dearest friends. A few years ago, she started seeing her mother, who had died when she was small. Her mother would tell her things about me. I have another friend who is very clever. Unlike the rest of us, she didn't believe that it was just a coincidence that every time I followed what the mother said, I walked into a fight I had trouble winning.

"She had noticed something we hadn't. Luna was having two different sorts of visions, and it was only the ones where her mother spoke to her that lead to trouble. Hermione did a lot of researching, she learned that it is exceedingly rare for a seer to have someone they can identify, speak with them. The few that did, did so from birth, and it was always someone who had died before they were born.

"Hermione did more researching, she is rather good at it, and found mention of a demon that could influence the human mind. To make a long, painful story short. There is a sort of demon that is so rare, no one knew them as anything but a myth. One was tricking Luna into telling me things that would lead me into a trap because it saw me as a threat to its plans. Twice, that trap involved massive amounts of devils working together.

"I think something similar is happening to you. I think it caused that vision of your brother to lure you into a trap. I don't know if the head of that thing was part of it, or if it was simply a by product of the destructive nature of devils. It is no coincidence those devils were massed like that. It goes against their nature not to fight amongst themselves."

"My truck, it's still there, my stuff is in it!" Sam blurted, belatedly remembering its existence. He had it less than two days, and wasn't accustomed to being responsible for a vehicle. He didn't have much hope that it would be intact, if even still there.

"I can take you back, but we had better be prepared for another attack. I saw more devils inside that dinosaur just before I brought us here."

Sam went out to collect the clubs he had dropped, they were the only weapons he had until he could get to his truck. His gun had been dropped when it ran out of ammo. He wasn't sure but it was most likely buried under a bunch of metal now. Harry came out just as he reached the steps.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but you are not a small bloke, and I don't want to risk losing you in limbo," he explained and then wrapped his arms about Sam. He tried to keep it impersonal as he didn't want to scare Sam off. However, he couldn't deny that he immensely enjoyed being pressed against the hunter's strong body. He also couldn't deny that he wasn't tempted to say Bugger it all, and press his nose into Sam's chest. He smelled of shampoo, spice, and other things nice. It was a lovely scent, really.

Sam had been hugged by males before, and even though he realized that Harry wasn't truly hugging him, he was surprised at how nice it felt. Harry's head just reached his shoulder, bringing his hair close enough to Sam's nose that its clean, citrusy scent filled his nostrils. It was not a scent he would have thought suited a male, but it suited Harry. Sam liked it, and frowned at the urge to bury his nose deeply into it. Harry was very much male, it had to be the magic causing urges Sam had only felt when with females, it just had to be.

"Here we go," Harry said, and then Sam felt that strange sensation from before; like his feet were switching places with his head by moving up through his body. He couldn't say it hurt, but he couldn't say it was something he enjoyed, either.

This time, they managed to stay on their feet, though barely. Actually, he made the landing, Harry would have fallen had Sam not steadied him by wrapping an arm about his waist.

Although, Harry understood why Sam had embraced him, it was enough to result in Harry's "Thank you" to come out rather embarrassing breathy, and his cheeks reddened. He might not have a lot of sexual experience, but he had enough that he shouldn't sound like a first year speaking to a crush. He blamed it on the fact that he hadn't been allowed the privacy to wank, much less hook up with someone in weeks.

"I have yet to managing a landing. You would think I would have mastered it by now," he said, quickly stepping back and hiding his embarrassment by looking around.

There wasn't a devil in sight, nothing moved in the fading sunlight but the overgrown grass in the wind. Harry didn't trust that, anyone who hunted wouldn't.

"How are we going to get inside that thing?" Sam asked, eyeing the wreckage blocking the door leading into the body of the ruined tin structure.

Harry flashed Sam a cheeky grin, and meditated the wreckage. Instantly, devils starting pouring out of what had been their prison. Harry waited until a good number of them were on the the ground, before letting the bent and torn mass of metal drop, effectively killing the insult spewing devils.

"Guess that is one way of solving the problem," Sam stated, his tone one of amusement.

"One of the first things we learn is to kill as many as possible in one go, the fewer devils we fight individually, the less chance of being injured. This time I had the means to kill quite a bit, so I did."

"We?" Sam asked, catching Harry's slip. Harry hoped to distract Sam by lifting the wreckage, revealing the gory mess beneath it. It was a sickening sight; one he hoped Sam wasn't used to seeing. He could have kissed them when several devils proved their lack of intelligence by rushing out. The second it took to kill them, gave him the idea on how to stall further, needing the time to think.

He didn't want to lie to Sam, however, he wanted to keep the wizarding world a secret until he knew the hunter could be trusted with the knowledge.

"We can't get in until I clean some of that away," he said, immediately casting a few spells. He thought that it was highly probable that Sam could be put off demanding an answer long enough that Harry could think of something to say that wasn't a lie, but kept his world a secret.

Sam knew a stall tactic when he saw it. You didn't grow up with Dean Winchester as a brother, and not learn how to spot one. Dean was an ace at them, usually wishing to avoid reporting bad news, or to avoid getting yelled at.

Luckily, for Harry, when he gave Sam a worried glance, Sam saw his eyes clearly, and remembered the sword. The vision had said that the person with eyes to match it, could be trusted, and so far, he had been given no reason to doubt that. He would let his question go unanswered for now. He would trust Harry, but he wouldn't trust him blindly.

Thinking his tactic had worked, Harry smiled at Sam once the bloody, mangled mess of devils was gone and the way to the door was cleared.

"I will go first," he said, flashing Sam another smile. He headed for the short flight of stairs leading up to the door in one of the massive legs. Sam followed, thinking he already knew the answer to his question.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The door lead to another set of stairs that spiraled upwards. At first, it didn't make sense to Harry but then he realized that It had to do with aesthetics. A short flight of steps leading to a door in the leg would be more visually appealing than one going up to meet the belly.

The devils must have been practically standing on each other in order to get out the door so fast. The space housing the stairs was barely big enough to allow him and Sam to stand apart.

"If your brother left you something, it must be up there," Harry said quietly, pointing to the opening overhead.

Sam nodded, and started up the stairs. He was confident in the safety of doing so, any devils that might have been inside, would have already made their presence known. The stairs lead into an open area in which the remains of another ladder could be seen. He figured the rest of it must have torn free when the head and shoulders fell.

There was a rusted bench fastened to one side, and on it was a large crumbled minilla envelope that was very familiar to him as it belonged to his father.

While he looked through it, Harry examined the edges left from the loss of the upper body of the T-rex. He could see where the screws holding it together had been removed along part of the edge, which had resulted in the weight causing the rest to rip free. He had a frown on his face that matched the one on Sam's face.

It was clear that the devils had been at work, but he was at a loss to explain how they could have timed the head to fall. He had been so certain it had been a trap, but now he wasn't as certain. Nothing made sense at the moment. The devils wouldn't have worked together without being forced, but he couldn't see why an archdemon would have them tear down the dinosaur, unless it was a trap, but why would such an unpredictable trap be set, when it wasn't needed?

The sheer number of devils would have been enough to over power Sam. Having the head fall on him would have been pointless. Unless... A triumphant expression replaced the frown when Harry realized that the head hadn't been a part of the trap, but a result of the devils destructive nature. The trap had been the devils themselves.

He turned to inform Sam of the fact, but instead asked what was wrong at seeing confusion written all over the big hunter's face.

"What is wrong is this makes no sense. All of this belongs to dad. He doesn't go anywhere without it. He was gone when Dean disappeared, off on a hunt up in Alberta Canada. There is no way he could have met up with Dean so soon, and he damned sure wouldn't have given him his notes. That is what all this is, notes dad made on past hunts, and ones he is planning to look in too. If there is a clue here, I am not seeing it."

It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say that maybe the clue was the fact that it all belonged to Sam's father, but common sense kept him silent. He didn't know anything about Sam's father, and he didn't really have any true reason to suggest that maybe Dean was trying to tell his brother that their father was behind his disappearence.

"I need to talk to dad, but not here. Once I get my truck, I will call him after I get out of here," Sam said, replacing everything nearly back into the envelope.

Neither hunter said anything as they made their way out of the park. Sam was busy with his thoughts, Harry was busy watching for a possible ambush.

When they reached the parking lot where he had left his truck, Sam stopped so quickly that Harry bumped into him.

"It's gone. My truck is gone. I left it right there!" he said pointing at the spot. Harry looked at him with wide eyes when he let loose with a bunch of swear words, and started calling himself an idiot.

"I didn't lock it, I left the keys in the ignition, but I didn't think there was anyone around to steal it!"

"Who would?" Harry asked, hoping to get Sam to stop beating himself up. "I was surprised to find you here, at least until I realized you had to be a hunter. Not that I have any experience with American hunters, but even then, I wouldn't expect one to knick anything from me. I also wouldn't expect a non- hunter to be in a place like this. It is the last place I would expect to have something knicked."

Sam let out a deep sigh, and looked at Harry. "Dad taught us to not trust almost everything. That means we don't trust our stuff to be safe. Dean would not have left the door unlocked, and the keys would have been in his pocket when he walked away."

"And the window could have been busted, and the truck could have been outwired," Harry pointed out, running what he hoped was a soothing hand down Sam's arm. "What I am saying is there is no reason to be calling yourself names. Someone wanted your truck, I don't think a locked door or lack of keys would have stopped it from being taken. That is was is not your fault, not when it was knicked in a place like this. You expecting it to still be here is not unrealistic. In a thriving city, yes. You would be stupid to leave the door unlocked or the keys in the ignition."

"Which raises the question of who would be out here that would need to take your truck, and that raises the question of how they got here," Harry said, scowling as he looked around. "If it was a hunter, what happened to the vehicle they had to use to get here?"

"I would say that we needed to look around, but not on foot, and especially not when I don't have a..."

"We wouldn't be on foot," Harry said, looking at the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. Full darkness was still a few hours away, but he didn't want to risk driving at night in an unfamiliar area. "I..."

The sound of an engine distracted him from finishing. Seconds later, a beat up truck pulled to a stop near them, and a female of around Sam's age got out.

"Sam, is that you?" she called out, and then grinned. "It is you!" Harry watched as she hugged Sam, who didn't seem to mind at all. He told himself that he wasn't jealous, but he didn't believe a word of it.

"Ruby, what are you doing here?" Sam asked, all excited smiles. Watching the greeting, Harry felt as if he was slapped in the face, which was foolish, he thought. He had known Sam not even a day, and he hadn't known if his interest was returned, so feeling hurt was a rather silly way to feel.

"I heard a rumor that a lot of devils had congregated in this area, but someone beat me to the hunt. Well, sorta. I found a few live ones in something called a fun house over there, I also found a lot of dead ones by a big, tin lizard," Ruby waved a hand towards the amusement park.

"When I got back to my car, the battery was dead...is this your truck? I had to borrow it to jump off my car. I couldn't believe my luck when I came across it. I don't know why you left it unlocked and with the keys in the ignition, but I am glad you did."

Harry found himself wanting to slap Ruby, and he really wasn't sure why. She wasn't nearly as annoying as Malfoy, and he had never want to hit the hit the way he wanted to hit Ruby.

There was something off about her, something he couldn't put a finger on. He had no reason to doubt her as much as he did, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she had been waiting on Sam.

He thought of a time that he had been so certain that Lucius Malfoy was the archdemon, because he really hadn't liked the man. It was possible that was what he was doing now, turning jealousy into something sinister. He was jealous, having no right to be didn't change his feelings, he liked Sam a lot, and wanted to be the one he was hugging.

"Say, who is your friend, never seen him around." Ruby eyed Harry with the same suspension he was eyeing her.

"This is Harry, I wouldn't be here if not for him," Sam said his smile britghening when he flashed a glance at Harry. He then regaled Ruby with an altered version of events, making it sound as if they had never left, and that she had missed seeing them because they had tried chasing down another group of devils, losinging them in the town proper.

Ruby smiled at Harry, thanking him for saving her friend, and then excused herself, saying that she had heard of what might be a nest of vampires terrorising a village in the next sector over.

Once she was gone, Sam turned to Harry. "Look, I was thinking," he said, shifting his weight nervously, and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "You are a pretty handy guy to have around, and I know my way around, which you need help with. It would be beneficial to both of us..."

"I am into blokes," Harry blurted abruptly, cutting Sam off. He was not going to be able to hide his attraction to Sam, so was letting him know that he was going to be seeing wood, lots of it. "You are fit, I am eighteen, my body is going to react even if against my will. Working together won't work if you are going to have a problem with that. Also, we take my vehicle, it is warded and has a lot more protection than your truck."

Despite how it was stated, Sam understood what Harry meant. "I have no problem with it, unless I wake up to find you naked in bed with me, humping my leg. As for using your vehicle, I can't agree or disagree until I see it. Obviously, I am not a small dude. I don't..."

Sam trailed off, watching in bewilderment as Harry pulled a toy car from one of the pouches on his belt and set it on the ground.

"You are going to need to step back a few feet," Harry said, urging Sam back by pushing lightly on his chest. He figured it was as good of an excuse to touch him as any.

When the car started growing, Sam let out a startled shout and took a few more hasty steps back.

"Any seat you sit in can be adjusted so you are comfortable," Harry said, smiling at Sam. "In a pinch, it can sleep both of us, but a bit cramped. There is more than enough space for your belongings, and gas will never be a problem. I can shrink your truck, cast a feather weight spell on it, and bring it along. I can't do more to it than that, however."

Sam was astonished, but he didn't fail to catch Harry's unintentional slip. Someone had to know how to use magic on a vehicle, and if that person wasn't Harry, it meant that there was at least one other person who could use magic. Sam was betting there were more than two, he wouldn't be surprised to find there were dozens, if not hundreds more.

Twenty minutes later, they were on the road out of town, Sam's bags stowed away with Harry's, and his shrunken truck stashed in a pouch.

"So, how did you and Ruby meet?" Harry said, striving to sound calm and casual. He was dying to know if there was anything between her and Sam. Since Sam said he didn't have a problem with Harry being gay, that might mean he was at least bi. Not wanting someone humping your leg was no indication of sexuality. Harry liked blokes, but if Malfoy had crawled into his bed, he would have found himself blasted back out, and the git had turned out to not be a bad looking bloke.

"When I was in Demonology school, Ruby shared a hour with me and my girlfriend," Sam said, wondering why a crestfallen expression fainted across Harry's face.

"After Jessica's death, I lost touch with Ruby. I knew that like me, she had began hunting, but to be honest, I didn't care enough to keep in touch." Realizing how that must sound, Sam sighed, running a hand over his hair, and then explained.

"She isn't someone I liked, not at first. She was pushy, loud, sort of rude, and every time, I planned something with Jessica..."

"You don't have to explain, Sam. I was just curious as how you met. You seemed rather fond of her, so it struck me as odd that you would be hunting for your brother alone." It wasn't exactly a lie. Harry had been curious, Sam had seemed glad to see Ruby, and for about two seconds, he had wondered why Sam was searching for his brother alone.

It came out a bit stiffer than he meant. Finding out Sam had a girlfriend was like being kicked in the teeth. Harry supposed he had asked for it, he had got his hopes up, almost convinced himself that he had a chance, and that was stupid on his part, because Sam had not done or said anything to give him a reason to think that way.

"I want too," Sam said, not sure why he did. Something about how Harry was holding so tightly to the steering wheel...Sam's eyes widened when he realized that Harry was acting the same way that his dad did when he got news he would rather not hear.

That stumped Sam as nothing he said had concerned Harry personally. He thought to ask about it, but didn't, Harry's expression was the same one Dean got when he didn't want to admit there was a problem. Not wanting to push, Sam continued as if he hadn't noticed a change in the demeanour of the other hunter.

"Two years ago, Dean showed up one night, saying dad was missing. No one had heard from him in weeks, no one had seen him in weeks. Dean was convinced that someone was holding him captive. Dad often take off, sometimes for weeks. It is not uncommon for him not to call us. It is not normal for no one to hear from him, no one to see him, and to leave his notes behind is unheard of," Sam said, his brow furrowing when he thought about the envelope he had found. What was Dean doing with their father's notes? It didn't make sense that he would have them, much less leave them where he had. Come to think of it, why hadn't the devil ripped them to shreds?

He confused Harry by suddenly letting out an annoyed growl, and slapping his hands on his thighs.

"It does make a damned bit of sense. Dean and I met dad the week before Dean disappeared. I saw his notes on the seat of his truck when as he pulled away. So how did my brother get his hands on them? Dad would not just hand them to him, Dean would not take them without permission, unless he had a good reason, but I can't think of a reason he would consider good enough."

"I don't know anything about your family, so I am just tossing out possible answers," Harry said, effectively distracted. "Maybe your dad isn't really your dad, and your brother is trying to warn you. Maybe he isn't missing so much as he is hiding," he said glancing over at Sam. He might have a girlfriend, which meant Harry had to give up on the type of realationship he wanted, but friendship was still possible and Harry worried he might be insulting Sam with his suggestions.

"Not possible. At least not unless Bobby has become a meat suit as well," Sam said, not bothered by what had been asked. It was something most hunters would be quick to question.

"Bobby is the most cautious person I know. He has learned to be, and he tests everyone he hasn't seen for longer than a few hours. Hell, he will test you if he thinks there is even a slight chance a demon might have posessed you. Its only been a few days since Bobby saw dad. At that time, dad was still dad, and he had his notes with him, Bobby saw him place them in his glove box."

"Ok, from my experiences, I know that being told someone hasn't been seen, doesn't mean that no one has seen that person. It just means the people asked hasn't seen them. It could also be a case of someone lying.

"Sam, I don't know what is going on with your brother, all I am sure of at the moment is that it is very likely, that is, I am almost positive you were lured here. What few facts we have, points to it. Why? I have no idea, but I can see no other reason so many devils would be hidden in that lizard..."

"Roarasaurus, or at least that is what Dean called it, actually it is a T-rex."

"What's a T-rex?" Harry asked, looking over at Sam in confusion. He seemed to remember hearing something like it, but wasn't sure.

"Are you seriously telling me you have never heard of dinosaurs?" Sam said, giving Harry an incredulous look.

Harry sighed, realizing he had to be carefull with how he explained. He wasn't yet sure he could trust Sam with the knowledge that there were thousands of people born with magic, but he didn't want to lie either.

By then, they were on the outskirts of the ruins, he came to a stop, but left the engine running. He could think more clearly, if he wasn't distracted by driving, it wasn't something he could do well, when focused on something else.

"Look," he said, turning to look at Sam fully. I only went to a muggle school until I was eleven. I remember hearing about dinosaurs, but my memory is very vague on the time before I started hunter school. After that, the focus was on learning to hunt. There is a lot of things I am not up to date on. Having relatives that hated me for having magic, didn't help. I spent a lot of time locked in my room as a result.

"There is also the fact things are done differently in England, at least it seems that way. I don't really know, I haven't had the chance to learn much about..."

"What the hell?" a voice all but shouted from the back seat. Both Sam and Harry whipped around to see a very wet, very naked man sitting there. Harry couldn't help but stare. The guy was naked, and fit.

"Dean?" Sam cried out in joyous astonishment.

"Sammy?" Dean said in the same surprised tone. Before anything else could be said, the guy disappeared, leaving only a wet spot on the seat as evidence of his actually have been there.

"That was your brother?" Harry asked, turning back around and gripping the steering wheel. He was half hard and praying Sam didn't notice.

"Yes, that was Dean, and what the hell just happened?" Sam asked, hoping Harry knew.

"I have no idea, but at least you know he is a live and well," Harry said in a slightly higher pitched voice than normal. He paused a moment, thinking and then had to ask. "He wouldn't happen to be into blokes, would he?"

Sam opened his mouth to protest Harry being interested in Dean, but closed it again, a disgruntled expression settling on his face. What the hell was wrong with him that he would be more bothered by the thought of Harry hooking up with Dean, than he was about the fact he had found his brother, and lost him again almost immediantly?

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Dean yelped as he was hit in the face with hot water, and hurriedly turned the shower off. Pushing back the shower curtain, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

What the hell had just happened? One moment he was rinsing the last of the shampoo from his hair, the next he was sitting naked in the back seat of a car he had never seen, and seconds later he was back in the shower.

Wiping the steam from the mirror, he frowned at his reflection. It was a change from the routine he had all but become used too, but what caused it...and who was the guy his brother was with? He looked barely old enough to be driving, he couldn't be a hunter.

Frown deepening, Dean got dressed, and headed out for breakfast, he always thought better on a full stomach. Once seated at a booth in the diner, he ordered the healthiest breakfast he thought he could swallow. To his surprise, he was handed waffles piled high with berries, and three sausage links. He dug in, a smug smile on his face.

If trying to order healthy food got him food he actually didn't mind eating, he had no doubt he would find a way to get out of the weird ass loop he was in.

"Ha! Take that, demons. You can't keep Dean Winchester trapped for long!" he though, beaming at the aging waitress when she set a large mug of coffee before him. Oh yeah, he had It figured out now.

Maybe ordering rabbit food and water would get him a large burger and a beer.

 


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry for the short chapter, I am writing on a tablet now, and I am having a hard time getting it to charge. I figured a short chapter was better than no update, so here it is. I will get the next one up as soon as possible._

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Bobby stood waiting when the passengers got out of a vehicle he didn't recognize. To his surprise, Sam was the first one out...but was it really Sam? He studied him a moment, taking in the tall form so familiar to him, and then turned his eyes to the one he had never before seen.

For a male, the guy was sort of on the pretty side with large eyes the hue of new grass, and jet black hair that framed his face in gentle waves. It was just long a enough to brush his shoulders, and gleamed in the sunlight.

He was on the short side, lithely build, and as he started walking forward, his gait was the loose, confident stride Bobby associated with seasoned hunters. Sam moved easily, but he didn't move with the same confidence of his brother or father.

It was puzzling as the stranger looked very young, younger even than Sam. How he could have hunted enough to gain that level of confidence, was something Bobby didn't want to think about. He had thought John wrong for starting to teach Dean at sixteen. It had taken Dean at least five years to start walking in the same way.

"Who is the kid?" he blurted when Sam came to a stop several feet away.

"This is Harry, he helped me out of a rough spot, and has offered to help me look for Dean," Sam said, and then turned to Harry.

"This is Bobby Singer. I have told you about him."

"Cristo," Harry said, not willing to trust that Bobby was what he seemed. To his surprise, Bobby laughed, clearly approving of the action.

"I can appreciate being cautious, it has kept me alive. Hope you can appreciate me being the same," Bobby said, holding out a silver flask.

Harry gave him a cheeky grin, took the flask; making a show of pouring it into his mouth so that it was undeniable that he was really drinking it. It also gave him a chance to verify it as truly being holy water. The more he used his focus, the more convinced he was that they were supine to wands. Casting a spell could be done in front of Muggles if the affect couldn't be seen; a feat nearly impossible with a wand.

He handed the flask to Sam, who gave him a perplexed look, but took It, and than drank a small amount.

"I knew you weren't a demon, I didn't know if you were a werewolf or not. Anyone that carries holy water around, knows it is at its highest potency if stored in silver. No demon would carry it around. So, now we all know that none of us has been infected or possessed," Harry explained with a shrug. He preferred things quick and simple. He made a mental note to talk to Sam about allowing Harry to apply a rune that would prevent him from becoming a meatsuit.

"Now that is settled, why you boys here?" Bobby asked, turning back inside. It was still early, he had just poured his second mug of coffee when he had heard the sound of someone coming up the drive. He needed the caffeine, if he was going to deal with whatever had Sam pairing up with another hunter besides his brother.

Despite the proof that Harry wasn't a demon, he still watched as he passed under the devil trap on the ceiling. Something was off about him, Bobby knew it as surely as he knew his red hair was turning grey. He got his proof when the young hunter paused for a split second as he passed under the trap.

Still, it was possible his gut was telling him wrong. Maybe Harry had paused when he did for a reason, Bobby couldn't see. He could have been struck by a thought, or maybe he had paused at seeing the mess the kitchen was in. He hadn't washed dishes in two days, business had prevented it.

Deciding it would be best to hold off on questions until he had more proof, Bobby sat down and picked up his mug, waving a hand at the chairs across from him.

"Make yourselves at home," He said, not surprised when Sam went and opened the fridge, coming back with two colas, one of which he handed to Harry.

"I know you aren't here just to show Harry my pretty face," Bobby said blandly, causing Harry to snort in amusement. "So why are you here?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Reluctantly, he began filling Bobby in on everything he had been experiencing, skillfully revealing Harry's part in the tale, but without any hint of his having used magic.

Bobby sat listening, drinking his coffee, and watching Harry. It didn't take much for him to realize that Harry had an interest in Sam that went beyond a desire for friendship, or even hunting. Exactly how Sam felt about Harry wasn't clear. It was obvious he was comfortable being around the younger male, and it was just as clear that he liked him, but beyond that, Bobby couldn't tell what Sam was feeling. His worry over his brother was predominate.

"The reason why we are here, is this," Sam said, pulling his father's notes from inside his jacket and sliding them across the table.

Bobby knew what he was being shone instantly, and frowned. "John called two nights ago to ask if I had seen these? Where did you find them?"

"I didn't tell you everything," Sam said, sighing again as he told Bobby about the vision of Dean, and where they had found the notes.

"You strike me as being more experienced," Bobby said to Harry, drawing his green eyes away from Sam. "I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter."

"Devils don't band together like that on their own, the only thing destoried in that town, at least recently was that dinosaur. That goes against everything a know about devils. The only time I have ever heard of them banding together, focusing on a single target, was when a powerful demon had control of them. I have heard of that happening only twice," Harry answered as honestly as he could. He just hoped Bobby, who seemed well educated, didn't know enough about the U.K, to ask pointed questions.

"From the clues I have, it seems as if Sam was lured into a trap. Why, I don't know. I don't know if it is about his brother, or if he is being used to trick Sam. Honestly, at this point, I simply don't have enough to go on.

"All I can say with any certainty is that what I have seen so far points to the involvement of a very powerful demon. Notice I said points to it. I am new here, I haven't seen enough hunts to know for sure."

Bobby was satisfied with the answer, He had talked to enough foriegn hunters to know they found hunting in America to be very different.

"So, we are looking at the question of how John's notes got from Alberta Canada to Kansas in roughly forty-eight hours, and who could have taken it?" he said, looking pointedly at Sam. "I will eat my hat if it was Dean that took it, even if by some miracle he could make it to Kanasa in time to leave it for you to find.

"While you are chewing on that, ask yourself why only the loose notes? Why not the three note books? Ask yourself why Dean would disappear instead of coming to you. If you were in danger, he would not go into hiding. Hell, if he was in danger, he wouldn't.

"You need to start thinking, Sam. You need to stop trusting everything you see and start asking questions before running off. Yes, I am worried about Dean too, but if you don't stop reacting, instead of thinking, you are going to get yourself killed. You dead is the last thing we need.

"What you should do, is stop chasing after visions and head back to that town where the two of you were hunting, and try tracking Dean's movements. You took off for Arcadea on the word of one person.

"I find it hard to believe that those devils just happened to be there. I think Harry is right, someone set a baited trap for you, and you fell in it, and for it," Bobby scolded in a tone far more gentle than he would have used on Dean. It wasn't because Sam was his favorite, but because Sam wasn't as stubborn, nor was he as experienced.

Turning to Harry, he studied his face for a moment, seeing nothing but open curiosity in his face.

"Of the two of you, I have little doubt that you have the most experience. Keep him safe, and if he does something stupid again, smack him upside the head and call him an idgit for me."

Harry blinked a few times and then laughed. "Yes sir," he said, grinning at Bobby.

"Hey, no fair ganging up on me!" Sam protested with a grin of his own. Things had gone better that he had thought, he hadn't been called an idiot and Bobby hadn't been harsh about pointing out his mistakes.

They left soon after, Harry driving just until he was certain no one could see him apparate. Pulling over, he cut the engine, pocketed the keys, and then grinned at the mystified Sam.

""You might want to get out," He said with a nonchalant shrug. "The last time I shrank someone, they stayed six inches tall for a week. Granted, if you were that tall, I could carry you around in my pocket, I think I might like having a pocket pal."

Sam blinked at him, believing him until he saw the twitching lips, though he wasn't sure of exactly what he was being teased with. All he knew of magic was what little he had seen, and he didn't know what was meant by pocket pal, but he had a suspicion it was something dirty.

He got out, and watched as the truck was shrank, and placed in a pouch, before giving Harry a questioning look.

"I know from what has been said, that the ruined town where we met is much closer to where we are going then it is to here. So, I will apparate us there, saving us hours of driving," he said, stepping close to Sam and wrapping his arms about him.

"Might want to hold on tight, wouldn't want to drop you."

Sam knew Harry was teasing him, this time. Those big, green eyes were twinkling merrily, and a playful smile curved his lips. It had been a while since he had seen someone playful, and against his will, he found himself utterly charmed. His arms went about Harry, and he pulled him closer, until they stood flush against each other.

"Tight enough? I can go tighter," he said, increasing his grib a little. To his surprise, Harry let out a tiny squeak, and just before Sam felt the switching sensation start, he felt the unmistakable feeling of an erection pressing into his thigh. 'Oh, maybe I shouldn't have done that,' he thought just as the world flipped.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Harry pushed away the second they landed in the parking lot where Sam had parked his truck, hiding his flaming face under the pretense of digging through his pouch for his truck.

"Harry, it is okay, I understand," Sam said thinking Harry had got hard because that was what you did at age eighteen, get hard over the slightest reason.

"I don't think you do, but I don't want to talk about it," Harry said in a quiet, but firm tone. He made certain he couldn't be pushed to talk by unshrinking the truck, tossing the keys to Sam, and then climbing into the very back.

Nonplussed, Sam stood a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the sudden change in Harry. This seemed to be more than just embarrassment. Mind whirling, he got in, and started the engine. Fifteen minutes later, they were passing the city limits, on the way back to the last place Sam had seen his brother. Lost in thought, he was a bit startled when Harry climbed into the passenger seat come time later.

Sam said nothing, just glanced at him, but Harry was looking out the window so his expression was hidden. Feeling eyes on him, Harry sighed, but remained looking out the window.

"I don't mean to be rude, but it's my problem to deal with, and I don't want to talk about it," he told Sam quietly. A dozen dragons wasn't going to drag out of him that he was very attracted to a straight bloke. It was humilating at the least. How it had happened he wasn't exactly sure. Sam wasn't the first fit bloke he had been pressed against...Oliver Wood had made it clear that he would be up for a shag, but he hadn't caused nearly as strong of a reaction.

"Okay, but you know where I am if you change your mind," Sam said, and began looking for a place to get food. They had got up early, and it was going on three. His belly was complaining that breakfast had been too long ago.

They stopped at a waystation just outside Manning. It had been Sam's intent to ask about his brother only. But he ended up ordering sandwiches when the smell of roasting meat hit his nose, resulting in his stomach rumbling so hard the man behind the counter heard it, and laughed.

Harry went in to use the loo, and while washing his hands, was overcome with the sensation of being watched. He turned to see someone standing just outside the range of the mirror, stark naked, dripping wet, and with suds in his hair. The bloke was fit, and as easy on the eyes as Sam. Harry stared with wide eyes, looking into ones familiar to him. Sam had eyes that exact hue of green.

The bloke stared back with a dropped jaw, and then vanished, leaving behind a puddle of soapy water as proof of his really having been there.

Harry rushed out to find Sam, who was standing to one side of the counter, waiting on his and Harry's food.

"Do you have a picture of your brother?" he asked, almost certain he had just seen Dean. The chances of someone else having eyes the exact moss green of Sam's was so slight as to be almost nonexistent.

"Yeah, hold on," Sam said, wondering why Harry was asking. He dug his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a small photo of him and Dean.

"It's a couple years old, but Dean hasn't changed that much since then," he said, handing the picture to Harry. Harry looked at it carefully. He wasn't certain, but Dean didn't as muscular but the faces were too much a like for it not to have been him in the bathroom.

"Sam, just before I came out of the loo, I saw Dean," he said earnestly, handing the picture back. "He was really there for a few seconds. He must have been taking a shower wherever he is, because he was naked, dripping soapy water, and as shocked to see me as I was to see him."

Sam blinked a few times, and then rushed for the bathroom. As soon as he stepped inside, he could smell his brother's shampoo; it was unmistakable. For years, Dean had been mixing three different shampoos together. Sam wasn't sure why he had started doing it, but the combination resulted in a fragrance that Sam had encountered nowhere else.

"What the hell is happening?" he asked, staring at the puddle of water left by Dean.

 _Meanwhile_...

Dean paced the area between the foot of the bed and the tv. He was dripping water everywhere, but didn't really notice. He wasn't entirely sure he was in hell any longer, or if he was, something had happened that had sent him to a men's room for a few seconds. If he was in hell, the very short, and very unexpected trip, was proof of there being way out.

He climbed back into the shower, hoping to recreate the event...only nothing happened. Still, the fact that it had once, it gave him hope. By changing his habits, he had started breaking down the loop he was...

Dean stopped, something occuring to him. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe By changing what he did, he was causing the loop to begin to break down. That had to be it.

Pulling on clean boxers, he started to lie down on the bed nearest the bathroom As he had done since he was a kid. He had started doing it out of spite, angry at his brother for something he had long forgotten. Thinking about it now, he had still been doing it out of spite. Why, he didn't know.

He moved to the next bed, thinking it would take him awhile to fall asleep, but he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Sometime later, Dean opened his eyes to find himself chained to a table, in a sweltering hot room, with a demon standing over him.

"They say that Dean Winchester can't be corrupted, I am here to prove them wrong," it said, sinking its claws into the meat of his thigh.

Determined not to give the demon the satisfaction of hearing him scream, Dean clentched his teeth and only grunted when the claws were ripped free, and then sank into his other thigh. Those claws ripped at him until he lay quivering, throat raw from screaming, his blood puddled on the floor. An eternity seemed to pass before the torture stopped.

"I am impressed, Dean Winchester. You are indeed strong, but all humans have a breaking point, it is simply a matter of time before I find yours. Time is something I have in abundance," the demon sneered down at him. It was a monstrosity of scales and horns, its eyes a mustard yellow.

Dean was very confused when all his injuries suddenly vanished along with his pai , but then the torture started again seconds later. It didn't take long for him to understand that he wouldn't be allowed to use death as an escape. It was only a short time longer before his voice gave out and his screams became slight.

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"I need to contact someone, I can't make any sense of what is going on," Harry said as he came out of the bathroom the next morning, rubbing at his hair with a towel, another wrapped about his waist.

Sam tried hard to hide the fact that he was intrigued by a trickle of water making its way down Harry's torso.

He tore his eyes away, and fussed with the food he had gone out to get, after feeling the urge to lick all the water from the hunter's lithe body. He couldn't deny it any longer, he was attracted to Harry. What exactly that said about his sexuality, he didn't know. He had been attracted to only two females enough to want to have sex. Dean said he was overly picky. Sam didn't know if his brother was right, or if something was wrong with him.

No one could say that it wasn't strange that out of all the females he had met, only two had truly interested him, and one of those had turned out to be a werewolf that he had to shoot to save Dean. He glanced at Harry, thinking maybe that was it. Maybe his subconscious thought a male would be...he gave a mental shake, disrupting the thought. Gender had nothing to do with why Jessica and Madison had died.

Maybe it was simply a matter of chemistry and commonalities. He and Jessica had similar points of view, and an interest in Demonology. He and Madison shared similar tastes in music and books. He and Harry were both hunters, liked to help people, and in a way, they were both alone.

He would have to be blind to not see that all three were attractive, and with all three, he had been comfortable in their presence from the start.

"Someone like you?" he asked, hoping to distract himself from the tantalizing image of a wet Harry. To be honest, he wasn't expecting Harry to freeze like a deer in headlights at hearing the question, and they stood staring at each other a moment.

Caught off guard, Harry didn't know what to say at first. He stood staring at Sam, mouth working. After a mental scramble for an answer, Harry came to a conclusion. If he wanted to continue hunting with Sam, if he wanted to avoid lying to him, he had to come clean, at least about the fact that wizards and witches existed in England.

A bunch of people were going to be angry with him, but he felt that he could trust Sam with the secret. He had a chance to rat him out, and he hadn't. He had no idea of what Harry could do, Harry hadn't used magic when killing the devils, so as far as Sam knew, his magic was limited. He could have told Bobby about magic and hadn't.

However it was more than that. He had seen how Sam treated people, he had a good heart, and cared about others.

"Yeah," he answered, surprising Sam by dropping the towel so he could pull on the clothing he had forgotten to take into the bathroom with him. After seven years of getting dressed, and showering with other blokes, Harry thought nothing of it.

Sam was used to only undressing in front of Dean, and barely paid any attention to his nudity. Harry was an entirely different matter. He stared, he could not tear his eyes away. Harry was not muscular in the way Sam was used to seeing. He was sleekly built, his body toned and built for speed.

He had scars, you couldn't hunt and avoid them, but even marred as it was,  his skin looked so soft, so touchable. The muscles in his ass flexed as he lifted his legs to pull on his jeans, drawing Sam's eyes to it.

It was nicely rounded, and Sam just knew the globes would fill his hands perfectly. There was nothing at all feminine about Harry, but no one had ever took Sam's breath away to the same degree.

Fearing that he would give away more about himself than he was ready to reveal, Sam wrenched his eyes away just as Harry turned, tugging a shirt over his head as he did.

"One of my closest mates might be able to help. She is the best researcher I know, and rather clever. I am hoping that she can find something to explain why I saw your brother in the loo, and how I can help you distinguish false visions from true ones." Harry said, padding closer to the table where Sam was laying out their dinner. It was He was starved and it smelled wonderful.

"What is this?" Harry asked leaning to inhale the delicious aroma, eyes closed in appreciation.

"You have never had enchiladas before?" Sam asked curiously, glancing at Harry. It occured to him that despite spending the better part of three days alone with Harry, he really didn't know much about him.

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "You will find there are a lot of things new to me. Things are very different here, and I was raised differently from others in England," Harry said with a sigh, sitting down and giving Sam a small smile

"My parents died when I was very young. They were like me; my aunt and uncle who raised me, aren't not. They hated my magic, and didn't treat me very well because of it. I was a freak to them, something they hated almost as much as they hate demons or anything else they consider to be unnatural. I didn't have any friends until I started hunter school. The demon who killed my parents, wasn't happy that I survived," Harry said, smudging the facts a bit as he wasn't sure how Sam would take hearing about archdemons.

"Because of his determination to finish what he had started, I didn't have much in the way of freedom. I defeated him not that long ago, which made me famous in my world. I couldn't leave my house because of the mobs of people, and since coming here, I have been busy learning how to fit in. Everything is so different here, and not just the hunts."

"I see," Sam said, far more than Harry realized. He saw someone who had lived not so differently than he had. Granted, he had made friends, he had Dean if no one else. It sounded as if Harry might have been abused, at least verbally, which Sam had never suffered, but he understood how isolation felt. He knew what it felt like to never have the freedom to be a normal kid. He knew what it was like to have a guardian never approve of you. Sam was very aware of how painful it could be to talk about it, so didn't push. He hadn't missed how Harry had said "My world" as if they lived in two different worlds, but he was content to let Harry tell him when he was ready.

Giving Harry a smile, Sam slid one of the foil lined take-out boxes to Harry, as well as a cup of soda.

"Here is to trying new things," he said, holding up his soda in a toast. Harry bumped his drink to Sam's, thinking it would be so easy to utterly fall for him.

"Here's to making new friends," Harry said, taking a sip of what he was happy to discover was fizzy drink, which he hadn't had a chance to enjoy in some time.

After Sam explained how to adjust the amount of heat in the food, they ate while revealing little details about themselves, like how they had both dated two girls, and no one else, though Sam wasn't sure his time with Madison qualified as their being a couple.

Once finished, Harry made his call while Sam showered. As expected, Hermione burned his ears, scolding him for possibly placing himself in danger by working with a muggle hunter.

 

Endnote....

  
I am sorry for how long it took me to get this chapter up, but I ran into a problem.

All along, I had been thinking of the setting to be very similar to what is found in Diablo, but in order for it to be that way, there couldn't be any modren technologies, which would mean no Impala, no laptops, and no phones.

Dean without his baby, just wouldn't be Dean. So I thought, okay, there are cars. Then, it dawned on me that if they had the technology to make cars, they had the technology to make things like canned food, guns, and other common items.

I had planned on Sam having a laptop, but that required even more in the way of technology, and then in this chapter, Harry decided he needed to contact Hermione. The thing is, I originally planned on having him mirror call...but they don't use mirrors in the UK.

Harry doesn't have an owl, and even if he did, I couldn't see one flying so far without stopping to rest or eat. Where is an owl going to find enough places to do that while flying across the ocean?

Since America doesn't use floos, that left only phones, which forced me to rethink everything.

It was suggested that maybe angels left artifacts, but I couldn't think of a way to explain how a laptop or phone could work without internet providers or towers for cell phones.

It was weeks of me banging my head on my desk before I went "Doh!" and face palmed. The answer should have been obvious, but wasn't. It was technology left from a previous era, which was on my thoughts when I used the word "fuel" instead of "gas." I saw it as the technology for making fossil fuel having been lost, so a substitute had been created.

This is what happens when you are unable to think of all the details ahead of time, though I thought I had.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione started when her phone rang, accidently closing the book she was reading. Ron, who wasn't used to hearing the sudden, and loud, sound of an incoming call, let out a yelp, and slung the knife in his hand, sending mustard flying everywhere.

"Bloody Hell!" he exclaimed, turning to look at Hermione with wide eyes and a hand over his racing heart.

Hermione ignored him as she answered her phone.

"Hello," she said, thinking it must be her parents, and then let out a happy squeal when hearing Harry's voice.

"Sorry to bother you, Hermione, but I need you to just listen. My phone is low on charge, and this town's charging station is located outside its boundaries," Harry said, and then launched into his reason for calling.

Ron watched Hermione as he cleaned up the splatters of mustard, the sandwich he had been making, momentarily forgotten.

From the way she had squealed, he knew the caller had to be Harry, but her silence confused him. What was being said that could staunch the flood of questions she never failed to have. She was sitting there, all but quivering with them, but not saying a word. He became worried and moved to where she could see him mouthing the words "What is going on?" he was ignored until the call ended a few moments later.

"Sorry, Ron, but I will have to take a raincheck on lunch" Hermione said, getting to her feet and shouldering her bag. "Harry has run into something he has never experienced and wants me to see if I can find any information on it, I will be in the restricted section if you need me," she said, hurrying for the floo.

"What is it?" Ron asked, following her. "Is Harry alright?"

"Can't talk, he needs whatever information I can find, right now."

She was gone then, leaving Ron scowling after her.

"Could have at least told me if he was okay," Ron groused. Heading back into the kitchen, he finished making the sandwiches and then sat down to eat. He didn't know why but worrying always made him exceptionly hungry.

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Harry eyed the charge station. It was large for its kind and not something he expected to see in association with such a small town.

"Wonder if they are trying to compensate for something?" he muttered, setting his phone in the hollow where it would be charged.

Sam, who had come along to charge his computer, chuckled. "You find them this size quite often on the border of a wasteland. More beatles are needed to provide the electricity needed by those entering the wasteland. This is the only station within a hundred miles, so it is not only used by the townspeople, but by travelers as well."

"Back home, they exist every few miles, each housing just a few beatles."

"We tried it that way, demons kept tearing them down. That stopped when ones this size started being used. Not even devils are stupid enough to tear down a station housing a hundred or more beatles." Sam said, looking at the structure.

It was nothing more than a cube made from clay, steel rods, and wires. He didn't know exactly how it worked, only that it had to be made a certain way, and needed lightning scarabs to run it. He sometimes wondered if there were angels watching, and laughing at the silly little humans trying to understand the artifacts given to them by the angels long ago.

"I am not used to this heat," Harry said, looking at a group of Muggles coming to use the station. "Let's wait in the car," he suggested. He wasn't used to being in a desert like climate with the sun beating down on him, and he didn't dare use a cooling charm in case the Muggles were watching more closely than they seemed to be. All it would take was for one of them to notice that he and Sam were not wiping sweat like everyone else. In an area where it was hot enough to bake clay, the lack of sweat would be noticed.

"I am game," Sam said, knowing it would take away. He might be more accustomed to higher temperatures than Harry, but it didn't mean he didn't felt as if he were melting. "Why don't you bring your truck close enough we can see when the charge is complete," he said, thinking it would also prevent someone from trying to steal his laptop.

"Tell me about how you became a hunter," Sam said, once back inside Harry's truck, where a cooling charm was hard at work. "What was it like growing up with magic?"

"Confusing," Harry said, grinning at Sam. "I grew up with muggle relatives, so each time I accidentally did a bit of magic, I had no idea what was going on. When I was eleven, someone came to collect me, and for the first time I heard the truth. I was a wizard, and my name had been down to attend hunter school since my birth.

"It quickly became clear that my new life was going to be nothing life my old one. I fit in, I made friends and I was happy. Hunting is what I meant to do, and I am good at it, very good at it. I wasn't taught to use guns, things are a bit archaic in my world," Harry said, thought about it, and then snorted in amusement. "They are stuck in the past with the weapons they use, most wouldn't know a computer for what it is, and wouldn't use one if they did, because they believe that if research is to be properly done, it must include books.

"Guns smell to much like sulphur, which is the smell of demons, so they have banned them. Blades, maces, and the like, are the only weapons allowed besides magic, and magic can't be used against some demons or their spawn. How true that will be here, I don't know. The only thing I have encountered where those devils, and they were not behaving normally." Harry said, sighing as he turned his gaze towards his phone. It wasn't even halfway charged, and Sam thought the sigh was because of it.

"Do phones charge quicker in England?" he asked, mulling over what Harry had told him so far. It was a lot of information, but didn't tell him a lot about Harry, at least not anything Sam saw as the personal information he had been hoping for.

"What?" Harry asked before catching on to why the question had been asked. "No, they charge about the same rate," he said and then sighed again, turning his eyes back to Sam's face.

"I am between a rock and a hard place, Sam. I like you, I don't want to lie to you, but at the same time, I don't want to risk harming others like me. I believe I can trust you, but all it takes is a single slip to the wrong person and innocent people could die. My kind has been hunted in the past, tortured and killed by hunters like you. Their only crime was being born with magic.

"I don't think you would intentionally repete what I have told you, but I know how easy it is to let something slip, despite your best attempts at keeping a secret. I have been guilty of it, I can't name a person that hasn't. The difference is, an entire race of people is at stake if you slip up. Right now, nothing I have told you can be used to find those people. You have only me to prove their existence. I grew up in the muggle world, I can survive without using magic, so trying to use me to prove the existence of magic wouldn't get anyone far.

"I know you have loads of questions, but you are getting closer to the point where you will start getting lies from me. As I said, I like you, I am enjoying working with you, and I hope that we can become very good friends, but as much as I don't want to lie to you, I will to keep others like me, safe. Demons and their spawn pose enough of a threat, the last thing we need is having muggle hunters shooting us down out of the belief we are evil."

Sam said nothing for a moment, watching Harry's face. He was clearly upset, torn between being open with Sam, and keeping the wizarding world safe. The guilt of revealing it to Sam was there in his face, which made Sam feel bad about being nosy and asking questions.

"You don't have to answer my questions, Harry. I am curious, I don't understand some of what I see or hear so I can't help asking questions. However, it is you I want to know about. Yes, I will be disappointed when you decide not to answer a question, but as long as you tell me something pertaining to you personally, I can deal with not having answers."

Harry beamed at Sam, relieved that he wouldn't need to feel as if he were being forced to walk a tightrope any longer, and delighted that Sam wanted to get to know him. That meant that at least on a plotonic level, he was liked by the other hunter. The temptation to kiss Sam, to push the envelope to see if more than friendship was possible, was strong, so Harry was very relieved to see the ledge holding Sam's laptop start to glow faintly as a signal of it being fully charged.

His phone had a bit to go yet, so when Sam got back in after retrieving his computer, Harry made a suggestion.

"At this point in time, it wouldn't be of any use to us to chase after every hint we come across about your brother. I don't want to risk us getting caught in a trap when we have no idea of what we are dealing with. My friend has access to knowledge that the muggle database might not have, so while we wait on her, we might as well hunt. That thing," Harry said, pointing at the laptop, "I am guessing works the same as it does in England, and can tell you if there are any possible hunts in the area?"

Sam smiled at Harry and opened the laptop, and switched it on. "Lucky for us, there is a transciever orb only a few miles from here so I sudden get a strong signal." he said, and then his fingers were flying over the keys.

Hermione was the only other person that Harry knew who used a computer, but she had only started doing so a few years earlier. Harry had thought her fast, but compared to Sam who had grown up using one, she typed very slowly. To Harry, Sam's fingers on the keyboard sounded a lot like the way popcorn sounded when most of the kernels were popping almost at once.

"In the next town over, something is killing small animals," Sam said, pausing to read the article in more detail. "Never mind, someone is already looking into it."

"That is one thing you Americans do that I wish was done in England. You have no idea how bloody annoying it is to have several hunters show up for the same hunt as you simply because there is no way of knowing what hunts are already being investigated."

"It wasn't always the case," Sam said, fingers flying as he searched for something else nearby, distracted from explaining he he found something he found interesting. "Here is something," he said, changing topics back to possible hunts. "A farm just north of here is seeking someone to clear their apple orchard of several nests of skates," he said, pausing again, to re-read the article. "Something is off with this one. Skates are not that difficult to kill, so why are there three nests when several attempts have been made to destroy them?"

His fingers flew across the keys as he searched for more information. Harry could think of a few reasons an infestation could occur, but he didn't know if skates were as diverse in America as they were in England. There were three varieties of the ray like creatures. Skates, which was a term also used when the type was unknown, were the smallest, least aggressive of them. They were so easy to kill, first years could handle them. They returned to the nest at night, making it a simple matter of burning the nest.

Ryverns, which got their name from the stinger on their whip like tails, reminiscent of the now exstinct wyvern, we're the next largest at nearly three feet across. They were faster, more agressive, and being stung could be fatal. Unlike skates, they came out to attack anything disturbing the nest, reguardless of the time. A group of sixth years could handle a nest if careful.

Blood Wraiths were the largest at nearly six feet across. They could give a snitch a run for its money, and in Lavender's words "horrifyingly mean". They attacked unprovoked, in groups of two to four, gouging out chunks of flesh from their victim. If the blood loss didn't kill you, the toxins in their saliva would if not quickly treated. They roamed further away from their nests, and it was possible for queens to set up overlapping territories. Which might be the case here.

If muggle hunters were trying to get rid of multiple wraith nests, it was no wonder they had failed. You had to kill the queen to get rid of the nest, and that was hard enough to do with only one nest.

"It says here that so far, seven hunters has gone into the orchard, two returned. Of those two, one died before saying anything, the other lived long enough to talk about man eating blankets falling out of trees. Does that make any sense to you?" Sam asked, looking at Harry with hope in his eyes, and a brow furrowed in confusion.

"Actually, it does, but let me get my phone. It is close to being fully charged, and I don't like the looks of those clouds," Harry said, getting out.

Ducking to see out the driver's side, Sam was surprised by the nearly black clouds covering the horizon to the east. The sky had been completely clear when they headed out to charge up.

"That storm is moving fast," Harry said when he got back in the truck. "I don't like the way it looks, and I really don't want to be caught out in it."

Sam looked at him, something in the way he spoke seemed off, like he was worried about something.

"I haven't been driving long, Sam." Harry confessed, glancing over at the hunter. "I have never driven in bad storm, I don't know what sort of charms, if any, this vehicle has on it concerning storms, and that one looks like it is going to be really bad."

"Switch places with me then," Sam said, thinking it was the logical thing to do. He had been driving since he was tall enough to see over the dashboard, and had plenty of experience with bad weather.

Harry blinked at him, and then chuckled. "I am sort of accustomed to being the one in charge when things get bad. I didn't think to ask if you knew how to deal with a storm."

If he had been with his friends, Ron would have been groaning about the storm, Hermione would have been telling him his options, but neither would have suggested letting them take over. It was nice to have someone offer to switch places and see to getting them out of trouble, even if that trouble was nothing but a storm.

Settling into the driver's seat, Sam flashed a smile at Harry when the seat and steering wheel adjusted to his larger size without his doing anything. "I could get used to that very easily," he said, starting the engine. "Usually, it's a fight to get the seat adjusted so I can drive," he said and backed up.

The leading edge of the storm caught up with them just as they pulled back onto the road, going from no rain, to a steady rain in seconds.

"I have never seen a storm move so fast," Sam said, looking out the rearview mirror. The storm was already nipping at their heels and he urged more speed out of the truck. Seconds later, a glob of something white hit the windshield with an audible thudding plop, and began to slide down. Then a glob of something brown hit, followed almost instantly by a pink glob.

Sam and Harry eyed it, neither of them had an idea of what it was they were looking at. A bright green glob with brown spots hit the windshield with more of a splat, causing Harry to let out yelp as it landed right in front of his face.

He stated at it as the wipers shoved it to one side, leaving faint smears of brown. "Sam," Harry said in a voice strangled in disbelief, "I think that is ice cream!"

 

××××××××××××××

  
Sorry for the cliffie, but the chapter would have been huge otherwise.

Since I have no way of knowing how many readers are familiar with the game of Diablo, and because I know how confusing it can be when you are reading something influenced by a game or something else you are not familiar with, and because I am straying so far from Canon, I am explaining here about the vehicles, guns, phones and compters.

In the game, you do not have the level of technology needed to produce cars, computers or phones. However, after thinking about when gun powder, and then guns were created, I think that level of technology would have been possible.

That left me without a mode of transportation, computers or phones, all three of which Sam and Dean rely on. I have said it before, but I just can't see them without them.

When cars were invented, the way of life was still fairly primitive, so I don't see it being to far of a leap to take their creation further back in time by maybe 70 years or even a hundred. Following my way of thinking, by the time Sam is born, the technology to create guns and vehicles would be close to what it was in the 20's.  
Keep in mind that demons and their spawn would be huge hindrances. It might be comparible to trying to mine and deliver ore while battling never ending attacks by dinosaurs trying to eat you, and when you don't have weapons powerful enough to truly stop them.

The only way I could logically explain the presence of computers and phones were to have them start out as artifacts given by the angels. Over time, humans turned them into portable, handheld devices. No internet, so all you can do with a phone, is to make a call, and there is no guarantee that it will go through.

Computers are closer to being mobile librarys, though they can use them to find possible hunts.

The charge stations are built around large beetles that send out waves of electricity. They were built by angels originally, and the way they work is not understood by humans. That would require an understanding of how electricity works when mixed with angelic power.

Yes, I know that the Impala, and Harry' truck contradicts what I said here, but I wasn't willing to mess with Dean's baby, and I couldn't think of a way to describe Harry's vehicle without the use of modern vehicles.

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Meanwhile, in England...

  
"Agggh!" Hermione yelled, slamming the book she was reading shut, and was instantly contrite over her actions, and examined it for damage.

"I trust you will not vocalize your frustration so loudly once school is in session, Miss Granger," Madam Pince sniffed in disapproval as she appeared next to the small table at which Hermione sat.

"I am sorry, truly I am, I didn't mean to yell, but the referrences are sending me in circles." Hermione told the librarian with a small apologetic smile. While she wasn't on first name basis with the older witch, they were usually on friendly terms.

"What is it you hope to find?" Madam Pince ask, thinking she could help as no one knew the library as well as she did.

Hermione looked at her, not sure if she could be trust to keep Harry's secret.

Seeing the hesitation and guessing at the reason, the librarian smiled. "I wish Mr. Potter nothing but the best, Miss Granger. I believe his decision to leave for greener pastures is just what is needed to put the fire back into our community. It is a shame when able bodied wizards and witches have grown so dependant on someone barely an adult, that they will not lift a wand in their own defense."

Hermione relaxed, smiling her gratitude. Having someone capable of helping find the needed books would be a tremendous help. "Harry is trying to help a Muggle hunter," she said, and then filled Madam Pince in on the situation.

"I believe you are dealing with at least two demons. You see, an Oculus demon can manipulate a person into believing they have had a vision. They are mind readers so would know exactly the best way to trick someone into believing they had a vision. This takes time, so they work with Tempus demons who have the ability to slow time almost to a stand still.

"What puzzles me about what you have told me is that no mention of a bad taste in the mouth, dizziness, or flares of temper were reported to you.

"In my experience, Oculus and Tempus demons always work with a third, a Mutatio demon who was given the task of feeding demonic blood to the person to change them into a demon."

"Tasked by who?" Hermione said, looking up from where she had been writing down what she was being told. Fear of what she might be told made her tone a bit sharper than she intended, but if Madam Pince noticed, she showed no signs.

"It could be a more powerful demon, or even a wizard. The only reason a Mutatio demon would seek to change someone so directly, would be to gain control over them. Since they are controlled themselves, anyone they changed would be under the same control.

"There is a slight chance the Mutatio isn't trying to cause a transformation. Back when I was a researcher for the Ministry, I came across a few cases where a mist demon ordered a Mutatio to only corrupt. One case involved the corruption of a few members of a prominent family. Under questioning, it was learned that the demon sought to spread discord among the family because they were funding hunters seeking to to kill him. The ones corrupted killed half the family before they were stopped.

"In another case, it was a black witch seeking to cover the fact she was taking children to offer to whatever demon she followed that was to blame. She made the mistake of taking a true witch just starting Hogwarts. The girl stunned her, and then escaped. The details after that were muddled. I don't know if she was burned or kissed. I do know the Mutatio was destroyed, which freed the corrupted villagers, one of which was the village mayor."

"How much do you know about hunting in America?" Hermione asked, deciding that the situation was dire enough to risk exposing Harry's location.

"Enough to know that while it is possible that Mr. Potter might be facing another another archdemon, it is unlikely. It takes a very dark soul, and a very powerful wizard or witch to become an archdemon, Miss Granger. It is rare that someone is born that is both. It is why we have had so few, and our community is much older than the one in America.

"When you again speak with Mr. Potter, tell him to watch his Muggle friend. If he complains about a bad taste in his mouth, begins to lose track of time, and shows signs of becoming increasingly short tempered, it is highly probable that a Mutatio triad has him targeted. If he is being fed tainted blood, he will start to crave it. He will do everything in his power to put himself in a position where he can get more, and he will be completely unaware that he is doing so."

Madam Pinch nodded at Hermione and then quickly walked away. She had a large donation of books to sort, index, and shelf.

Hermione sat thinking a moment, and then got up to find every book she could on the three demons and on demonic corruption. If the Muggle was being targeted, she wanted Harry to have as much information as possible.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

In another section of Hogwarts...

"Albus, you simply must do something about Peeves." Minerva insisted as she entered the Headmaster's office. She stopped with a gasp, hand going to her throat as she peered around with eyes widened in shock. The office looked like a war zone. All the portraits were empty, and bearing scorch marks. There were books and shredded parchment everywhere. Most disturbing were the strands of hair scattered about.

She knew exactly what she was looking at, she had only spent the last three decades looking at the hair. Only normally, it was attatched attached to the head and chin of Albus Dumbledore.

Minerva didn't know what to make of what she was seeing. Trashing his office was something her long time friend and superior was not known for doing. Cutting off his beard and hair was unthinkable. It was a source of pride to him, a mark of honor for surviving so long. She couldn't think of even the slightest of reasons he would do either...unless he hadn't been the one to do it.

Alarm racing through her, Minerva rushed to check to see if the Headmaster might possibly be in his personal quarters. When there was no answer to her frantic knocking, she tried the door and got a nasty shock for her efforts. The loud crying of an infant came through the door at the same time that Minerva felt the wards tiebthemselves to her. She stood there blinking in shock.

The job of a Headmaster was for life, unless the castle deemed the person unfit. When she accepted the job of Deputy Headmistress, she had known that Hogwarts would be her home until such a time as she could not carry out her duties. The shifting of the wards meant that for whatever reason, the castle had deemed Albus unfit to continue as Headmaster, so by default, she had become Headmistress.

Icy fingers of fear over her friend's fate gripped her as she reached again for the doorknob. This time the door swung open easily, and she gasped again in shock. Sitting in a pile of all too familiar robes, was a naked baby boy. He stopped crying at seeing her, lifting chubby arms in a silent plea to be picked up.

Wondering how an infant came to be there, all alone, Minerva picked him up, and frozen in shock when she found herself looking down into a pair of blue eyes she would know anywhere.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Luna hummed as she sealed the last letter. There were four in total and they each were lies. She didn't like lying. The truth worked so much better, but sometimes, a lie was needed, like now. Of all the people she knew, there was only one she saw as truly being her friend, and he was in trouble.

There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for Harry. Lying came easily, and there was little guilt associated with it as the lies would keep him safe, and provide him with the support he needed.

Turning, Luna smiled at the four birds waiting to deliver the letters. They were Gouldian finchas that had been bred by her mother to be post birds. They had become hers upon her mother's death and she was quite fond of them.

"These are to go to Fred and George Weasley," she said, handing the breeding pair her letters to the twins. They refused to be parted, so it was logical to send them, and not Pip or Pop.

"This goes to Neville Longbottom. You are not to let anyone else take it. If anyone tries, you bite them," she said, handing the letter to Pip.

"Pop, this goes to Draco Malfoy. You wait until he is alone. You will have to be very brave and very clever. The Malfoy wards are mean natured and will try stopping you," she said, handing over the last letter. She watched as they took flight, and got up to go to the aviary.

"It is time, little ones," she cooed at a pair of eggs. One shone like a pearl in pastel hues of blue and green, the other was very shiny and was a dark blue and cream. With the help of her mother, she had bred them herself, though it had taken years to do so. Now, they were ready to go to Harry.

A whining drew her attention, and she turned her head to see Petta, her mother's crupp pushing a third egg towards her. This surprised her as she had nothing to do with its existence.

She picked it up, examining it. It seemed to be made of black metal that had specks of red and white.

"It this your doing?" she asked, holding the egg up to show the corner. She listened intently, and then smiled. "I see, isn't Harry going to be so surprised?"

She set the egg next to the others, and then began making a nest of grass in a box. She then nestled the eggs in the box, and applied a cushioning charm before sealing the box. Charms to keep the box warm and dry came next, and then another cushioning charm.

"I have a package that needs an albatross to deliver, so I am going to the owl office. Tata!"

Xenophilius watched his daughter leave with a puzzled expression on his face.

"I wonder why an albatross, and not a gull or a cormorant?" he asked his wife's photo. "I am rather fond of red footed boonies myself." Shrugging his shoulder, he returned to his type setting, "Maybe whatever she is sending needs the bad luck. It isn't just a myth you know?" he said, glacing at the image of his wife again. "Mugmorgles simply adore them. Thankfully, albatross are immune to them."

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Neville gritted his teeth, the latest argument he had with his grandmother playing over and over in his head.

He wasn't his father, he had no desire to bring honor to the family name by becoming an auror. Yes, he had killed Nagini, but out of a desire to help Harry win the war. So what if it proved he had courage, it didn't mean he wanted to spend his life placing himself in danger on a daily basis.

He wanted to work with plants, to find ways to improve their medicinal properties. If his grandmother thought herbology wasn't dangerous, she clearly had not encountered a mandrake, or a Devil's Snare, or a Venomous Tentacula.

She didn't think it had any importance, which was ridiculous. Those skin care products she was fond of using wouldn't be possible if an herbologist had not found a way to crossbred plants so that a non-toxic form of Belladonna was created. It was herbologist that allowed needed potions to be brewed. There wasn't a potion in existence that didn't require plants.

A mourning rose shed its tears on his hand, which for some reason turned his thoughts to all the witches that had been paraded in front of him in the past few months. Not one of them had any interests in common with him, and the majority made him think of Lavender Brown. He found them as interesting as watching grass die.

He supposed that what got to him the most was the fact no thought was being given to his happiness. From where he stood, it seemed his Grams believed that because he didn't fit her idea of how a Longbottom male should be, he wasn't entitled to happiness.

The flitter of wings, and a flash of color drew him out of his thoughts, and he was startled to see a tiny bird coming in to land on the handle of a watering can. It wasn't a bird he knew, and it carried a letter bigger than it was.

"Aren't you a pretty fellow," he said to it, thinking that it was as hyper as as Ron's little owl as it was bouncing back and forth along the handle. It dropped the letter into his hand, flitted over to his cup of tea that had long ago grown cold, and drank its fill before flying off.

Brow furrowed in puzzlement, Neville examined the envelope wondering who sent it, as he wasn't familiar with the loopy handwriting addressing it. Pulling his wand, he checked it for harmful spells and substances, and didn't find any.

Flipping it, he checked the back, but didn't recognise the seal. He didn't know anyone whose house crest was of what looked like a goat with two heads and crooked horns. When he picked it up, the light scent of apples hit his nose and he relaxed. The letter was from Luna. She liked to add apple peels to her ink because they not only scented the ink, but gave it a reddish hue. No one else did that. At least no one he knew, and there was no reason for a stranger to be owling him.

Breaking the seal, he pulled out the letter and began to read.

 _Dear Neville,_  
  
_I realize that many find me odd, and I don't mind. It is not their fault they can't see what I do, think like I do, or know everything that I do. However, I need you to believe what I am about to tell, and I trust that you will. It is why I am being open with you, and not using trickery with you as I have with Draco Malfoy._

_Maybe Fred and George would believe me, but I could not trust that they would. So I made arrangements for them to visit America, and Harry. Malfoy will surely jump at a chance to prove his mastery of potions by accepting a potion as the primary brewer for a prominent hunter._

_You see, Neville, my mother's ghost comes to me and informs me of events concerning Harry. I do not understand why, she is very slippery when I have asked, but whatever her reasons, since I was eight, I have been informed of every time his life has been in danger even though I have often been unable to do anything to aid him. She also tells me of times when he needs help in other ways, and this time, the aid he needs comes in the form of what you, the Weasley twins, and Malfoy can do for him._

_Again, mother was slippery and did not answer my questions but she made it clear that Harry needs the skills of the four of you._

_She told me to tell you, as proof that she truly has spoken with me, that starting this morning, your grandmother has began giving you a potion that will slowly work to make you more agreeable to her plans for you. Mother said that you you have been suffering from problems concerning your magic, and was told that the vial of shimmering blue potion was to boost your magic._

_She asked if you remember how you served tea that tasted off just before you started having trouble controlling your spells? She says that you were given a small amount of a potion once used to control the excess of wild magic in small children_..."

Neville, who had been thinking that Luna was once again, telling him bits of the imaginary world she lived in, gasped in horror. Luna had no way of knowing that he had been served foul tasting tea, or that just that morning he had been handed a vial of potion that he had been told was to boost his failing magic. In either case, only he and his grandmother had been present, and he hadn't told anyone about any of the problems he was having with his magic or with his grandmother.

Furious at his grandmother, who he knew was quite capable of taking such underhanded measures, Neville continued reading, knowing he would be told how to handle it, there would not be a reason to tell him of the betrayal otherwise.

_Mother says you need to speak with a goblin named Riptooth. He knows everything that is going on, and will help you get away. First, you will need to get your lordship ring. You did not loose it, your grandmother took it while you were sleeping. You can find it hidden in the room with the yellow roses, hidden in a pouch under the mattress on the left side. Do not let it be known that you have found it to your family or friends._

_Be brave, Neville, stand strong, and be who you are. Don't let your Grandmother turn you into someone you are not meant to be._

_Your friend always;_   
_Luna_

An hour later, a very angry, Neville was on his way to Gringotts, his lordship ring on a chain around his neck.

 

 


	11. This is to inform you

Hi, I am Inshadowsidream's sister, Shadowdreamer. Naturally, that is not my real name, I would be kinda dumb to tell you my real one, right? Anyway, I am sorry to have to tell you this, but there will not be any more updates to this story, at least not anytime soon. My sister got into a motorcycle accident, and got pretty messed up. She bit the pavement in a place with lots of gravel. and it got in her eyes. The doctors say that with a few surgerys, she will be able to walk again, but they don't think they can fix her eyes so she can see well enough to write. All she can see is blurry shapes and colors. Not perfect eyesight, but at least she can see something. I am glad for that. I don't not being able to see at all is something she could have handled. 

 

Leaving her story up. There is computers for the blind, so maybe one day she can write again. Got my fingers crossed on that. She says I should take over the story, but I don't know. My style isn't her style and then there is the whole thing about it being written for me. It would just feel weird writing a story for myself, you know? Sis says to tell you that she is very sorry and that she hates disappointing you. She says that those of you she talked with were very nice. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Despite growing up around guns, I don't really know that much about them. I did try researching them, but it appeared to me that it is a matter of preference. No one seemed to truly agree on much of anything. One site liked glocks, another liked a Magnum or some other gun.
> 
> It was the same with edged weapons, so I decided to keep it simple. Muggle hunters use handguns, rifles, and shotguns.
> 
> American magical hunters use guns augmented with magic, and their equivalent of a wand.
> 
> Harry and friends use edged weapons, magic, and bows that are all enchanted somehow. Only those who will be hunting can use weapons with any large degree of skill.
> 
> Updates will be random. I simply will be too busy with work at times to write. Plus, I write on a phone which is annoyingly fond of changing words on me. Fighting it, is time consuming.
> 
> Just so it is clear, this did does not take place in the real world. It is sort of patchwork composed of bits and pieces found in a few video games. Some places are more modern than others.
> 
> I will use the term village a lot. In the game, you are given the impression that most, if not all cities, have been abandoned or destroyed. What is left is a few areas where a large number of people gather, which I think of in the story as being no larger than two or three thousand people. I see these as towns.
> 
> Villages are like the blink and you miss it small towns. There is a surrounding population of maybe two hundred, and the towns have one street with a police station, post office, diner, a small grocery store, and gas station. A motel can usually be found on the outskirts, but not always. That is usually all the services offered. The areas around the villages is usually farm land.
> 
> There will be trading posts scattered about, they will often be found near a rest station which is like an inn. 
> 
> Everyone is aware of demons. However, most people, especially Muggles, only regularly encounter their spawn (vermin).


End file.
